The Night of the Lions
by Gemini Explorer
Summary: The group is on safari in Africa. Marguerite and two other girls are stranded on the veldt, menaced all night by a pride of hungry lions. And Veronica insists on playing jungle princess, only to encounter more danger than expected!


_**The Night of the Lions**_  
by Gemini Explorer

RATED ABOUT PG-14 or a bit beyond. Some scenes are mildly racy, but are well within standards for the Mature stories here. Nothing is very risqué by present literary standards. But some sex and violence do occur. The story is broken into chapters (the first is much longer, as it sets up the story) to let the reader keep his/her place, if unable to finish the Fic in one sitting. Some terminology, ethnic terms, and cultural aspects of the story are intended solely to add authenticity and do not reflect any modern person's views.

This takes place several years after the explorers have left the Plateau, save for Ned and Veronica Malone, who are visiting their friends the Roxtons (John and Marguerite) and the Challengers (George and Finn.) In all of my Fics, G&F have been together, having bonded even before they learned that Jessie Challenger died of flu in London while they were on the Plateau. Finn's full maiden name was Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan. She has become a well known author of jungle novels and true adventure books, as well as a famous huntress and pioneer wildlife cinematographer. George, of course, sells his inventions and writes scientific papers. The Challengers have homes in Kent and in London. Lord John Roxton sits in the House of Lords when Parliament is in session. He is the XVIIIth Earl of Avebury, and Marguerite is, of course, now the Countess of Avebury. Each couple has two children, left at home with their nannies during this Fic.

And now, our story:

KENYA COLONY, BRITISH EAST AFRICA, 1929

The safari had forded the Bubimbi River (fictitious) and driven far enough on that they were unconcerned with crocodiles and hippos being an urgent menace. A cool breeze had commenced, and Marguerite Krux Roxton, Countess of Avebury, felt fresher and strangely content. She took off her brown terai hat and fanned herself.

"Does sitting next to me get you all that hot and bothered, Darling?" teased her husband. He grinned as she smiled back.

"Of course, John," she answered. "You have the same effect on me as on other women. I'm just the only one who gets to take full advantage of your manly presence."

"Not out here in the open, I hope," teased Veronica Malone. "Ned is easily shocked. Anyway, it's time for lunch." She raised her voice to reach the driver of their hunting car. "Geoff! I said I'm hungry. If I starve back here, I'm not recommending you to any other hunters!"

Geoffrey Blacklaws, the lead white hunter, laughed. "All right, Veronica. There aren't so many beautiful women that we can have that. Anyway, we're approaching a lovely spot for dining _'al fresco_.' Just over that ridge is a shaded glade where the breeze can cool us while we have a splendid view of the countryside."

He turned over to run alongside the second car, which was trailed by their two trucks. His partner, Stuart Hamilton, glanced at him and Geoff called, "Lady here says that she's starving. You fancy lunch at that little glade just ahead? I could do with a bite, myself. Getting everything across that river gave me an appetite!"

Hamilton nodded and waved him on.

Soon, they had the vehicles parked under picturesque mimosa trees, and the African staff had driven the trucks on another hundred and fifty yards, to start a fire for their own lunch. In such circumstances, the whites on this safari frequently prepared their own fare, or their women did, chatting amiably as they got into the chop boxes and produced the elements of a sumptuous repast.

The men stood a little apart, smoking pipes and drinking tea from Thermos bottles. Lord Roxton took one of the big water bags from the fender of his car and splashed some of the contents over his face and neck. "Must be a hundred degrees in the shade today," he opined.

Prof. George Challenger consulted his just-patented pocket thermometer. "Actually, it's just on 84 degrees here, with the shade and our being on a slight rise of ground. I feel quite comfortable."

"You should be, Genius," said his wife as she offered him a saucer with dill pickles, sliced red onions, carrots, and thin wheat crackers. "We broads are doing all of the work."

Ned Malone laughed. "We guys have been learning from the African men, Finny. I'll take home some useful knowledge."

"Besides, Finn, I thought that you enjoyed nurturing George, seeing as he's Husband of the Year." Blacklaws was amused by the interactions of this group, and the genuine affection that they felt for one another. He accepted a saucer from Susan Wilson, Finn's secretary. "I say, Susan, this looks quite delicious."

"It is," agreed Holly Blacklaws, passing saucers to the other men. "Marguerite isn't making lunch. She's just supervising and talking." Lady Roxton wasn't renowned as a chef, and that was among their standing jokes. Everyone laughed, save for Lord Roxton, who rolled his eyes in mock exasperation.

Marguerite had overheard and when Finn reached the food prep area, she theatrically checked her platinum and diamond Patek Phillipe watch. "Better get back over there, Finny. It's nearly two PM."

"What happens at two?" asked Veronica innocently, just failing to recall something that Marguerite had teased Finn about the previous day.

"George embraces her," razzed the Countess. "Snuggly-Wuggly, right on the hour, every hour!" She considerably exaggerated, but enjoyed needling the Challengers, who were indeed openly affectionate. Despite their substantial age difference, the couple were very close, and not above frequent snuggling, usually initiated by Finn. George had at first been embarrassed, but over the years had grown to like his wife's open expressions of their love. Actually, he had grown a bit vain about it, especially if other men at a party gave him jealous looks over it. In return, he had constructed a beautiful wooden pedestal of colorful tropical hardwood for their bedroom in Kent, where he perched Finn when he was especially proud of some achievement of hers, or just to remind her that she was ever on a pedestal in his heart...

Finn Challenger gave Marguerite a cool look, and Diana Hamilton quickly offered the Countess a cold ginger ale. "We have gin and tonic ready, if you'd rather, Marguerite," she placated.

Finn tapped her foot, then glanced at her own watch, a stainless steel Swiss number with a black face and white hands that showed well in dim light. She had dressier watches, but this was her favorite for hunting and casual wear. She set down the platter that she had been arranging for herself, adjusted the hang of her holster with the Smith & Wesson .38 revolver, and strode purposefully back to the men.

"Put that saucer down for a moment, Lover," she addressed Challenger.

"Eh? Why, Darling? Is there something wrong with the snacks?"

"No, but it's nearly two PM," Finn persisted. "Marguerite just told everyone again, for the second day in a row, that you hug me and we snuggle hourly. Do you want to make a liar of a noblewoman?" She grinned conspiratorially, and winked at George.

He rolled hs eyes, but saw that Finn was determined to carry through with this nonsense. He handed his saucer to Ned, and said, "Don't eat that, lad. I'll be just a minute." He took off his hat and Finn's sun helmet.

He drew his Heuer pocket hunter, opened the gold cover, and counted down the remaining seconds.

"Time," laughed Stuart Hamilton. "Grab her, George!"

And the Challengers embraced, Finn standing on tiptoe to reach her tall mate's face and rub noses with him before they kissed.

Holly looked wistfully at them and said, "You know, I think I'll try that more often with Geoff. Maybe not in front of everyone, but that feels so nice, and it looks so sweet."

Veronica shook her head and handed Marguerite more dry sticks for the small campfire. "Here, Countess. Lift the grill and feed the fire a little. My tummy is snarling. I want one of those steaks!"

None of them had any idea what they were driving into in another hour and a half.

The meal basically over a bit later, the Roxtons, the Challengers, and Susan Wilson took cups of tea and honey cakes to sit atop a small hillock near the cars. They brought their binoculars, to enjoy the day and to see what they could on the savannah below.

"Finnykins, I apologize for exaggerating the frequency with which you and George show affection in public. You are my best female friend, and I hope that I haven't ruffled your feathers too badly." Marguerite sounded as contrite as she ever had and looked anxiously at Finn.

Finn sniffed. "You'd better apologize to the Genius here, too. He's bigger than I am. If he got mad enough, I bet a punch from him would break a dinosaur's jaw!"

Marguerite laughed. "George is too much a gentleman to hit me. But I might never again win a game of chess against him, especially if he thinks that I insulted you. So, George, I certainly apologize to both Challengers. Sometimes, my jokes exceed the limit, I suppose. But I was hurt when you all laughed about my cooking."

"What cooking?" razzed Susan.

"That will be enough from you, Finn, Jr." cautioned Lord Roxton with a smile. "Let's change the subject. Get out your glasses and have a look around. There's a small herd of elephants a half mile away, at two o'clock. And a couple of rhinos and some general plains game. Lord, I love this place! I'm almost sorry to be going home, although I love Avebury Manor even more."

"Ugh!" said Marguerite. "Look to the right. More of those awful vultures. They seem to be circling, waiting for something to die. I hope that isn't a bad omen. Looking at circling vutures is how we got into that Nandi bear business."

"Hey," said Finn. "Susan and I got a lot of material there for my next book! It wasn't all bad. And George is as thrilled as I am to have those prehistoric hand axes that we found."

"I don't like the way that they're flying," noted the male Roxton. "Look at their pattern. Maybe there's just a pride of lions on a kill, but they seem to be getting more aggressive, as if something is dying."

Finn focused her Carl Zeiss 10X50 binocular on the birds and held as steady as she could, bracing her elbows on her knees. Normally, she used a smaller binocular by the same famous German maker, but had lugged her big astronomical and bird watching one to this session. She had hoped to sight trophy antelope or a really big black-maned lion on the plains below.

Now she saw a vulture fly violently apart as if struck by the thrown hammer of an angry Thor. Seconds later, a faint rifle shot reached their ears.

"By Jove," exclaimed Challenger, who had been watching a serval cat jumping in the long grass as it hunted mice and other small mammals. "Did that shot come from where those birds are circling?"

"Sure did, Lover," said his mate. "I just saw one of them blow up in mid-air. Maybe they're hassling some guy trying to field- dress a kill before scavengers show up. "

"Or," said Marguerite with a growing sense of dread, "maybe they're waiting for a man to finish dying. John, I hate to say so, but I expect that we'd better nip over there and see that all's well. Finish your tea and those cakes, and let's tell Geoff and Stuart. I have a bad feeling about this."

But they had been anticipated. Stuart Hamilton came running with two safari "boys" to clean up their picnic. "Where was that shot from?" he demanded. "I doubt that any other safaris are out here. We detoured off the beaten track, to avoid tetse fly country. Someone may have had an emergency, or those may be poachers." As licensed professional hunters, Geoff and Stuart were deputy game wardens. They were not fond of poachers. Usually, they were natives using wire snares or poisoned arrows. But sometimes, the Arab or Indian merchants who bought the illegal meat and ivory armed black elephant hunters with guns. Such men could be very dangerous.

So it was that the expedition packed up, made certain that their fires were out, and motored off to investigate who had shot the vulture.

They stopped near the vultures and used binoculars to scan the area until they saw a man propped against a tree. His hat was off and Roxton reported that he was a white man.

"Got a rifle across his lap, but he just tried to lift it and shoot at the vultures again, but his arms dropped. I rather fancy that the poor chap is about all-in."

"Is that how you Limeys say that the guy is dying?" demanded Veronica. "Ned, we need to do something!"

"No worries," said Hamilton. "We are indeed about to do something. Let's just finish "glassing " the area. If he was shot by a poacher, I don't want us driving into an ambush. Mum always told me that my hide looked better without any poisoned arrows sticking in it."

"I agree," said Diana. She turned to her gun bearer, the only black in their hunting car. "Jomo, _letti .275 bunduki kwa mimi." _

Jomo passed her the Rigby .275 and distributed suitable rifles to the other whites. The same took place in the other car. driven by Geoffrey Blacklaws.

"Let's drive in and bail out of the cars and form a loose defensive circle around that tree that's sheltering him," directed Blacklaws. "Stay behind what cover you find, and face in all directions in case some sod wants to have a go at us."

They did, and Marguerite and Hamilton approached the man first, Lord Roxton close behind, looking back to cover their rear. Hamilton had his .465 H&H double-barreled rifle in case of big game menacing them. The others had their light rifles, the sort used for most antelope, leopard, and the like. The rifles best for killing men... And they had looped leather ammunition bandoliers across their chests, in case of a serious fight.

Marguerite saw the glassy look in the man's eyes and the raw, oozing wounds on his left leg and side. A dead lion lay ten paces in front of him, she realized, flies buzzing around its sagging mouth. There was congealed blood as far up as the man's neck, and he moaned softly. His clothes had been shredded by the big cat's claws, and he had what looked like deep bite wounds in the leg. A rent in his thigh had been tied shut with a bandana.

She poured some water onto a cloth and sponged away the blood by his mouth, noting that he was feverish.

"Hallo, can you hear me, sir? Sit up just a bit, please. I have a drink for you." Hamilton helped her to rearrange him to a more upright position and set his Mauser 7mm rifle to the side.

"Better wet a rag and wipe down that stock, John. Got blood spots on it." The rifle seemed otherwise undamaged and Hamilton saw that it was a nice one.

Roxton noted that it was a genuine commercial Mauser sporting rifle, from the Oberndorf factory. He soaked his bandana and began getting the blood off before it stained the wooden stock. "Clear, all," he called. "This chap has been mauled by a lion. It's dead in front of him. Finn, Susan: shoot a couple of those vultures and see them off!"

The lion victim jerked as the two shots sounded almost as one. A vulture waddling dangerously close to the the man and his rescuers virtually exploded as a softpoint .303 bullet took it in the chest at 20 yards range. Susan was more ambitious than Finn. Her bullet hit a big bird just gliding in for a landing, with similar results. The women reloaded and came over to look at the stranger as the other vultures took flight.

Marguerite got a drink down the injured fellow and he looked at her with eyes that seemed to be trying to focus. A longer drink later, and he looked at her more sharply. He swallowed and murmured, _"Dankie, mevrouw. Dankie! Welkom!"_

Marguerite called for Blacklaws to come over. The white hunter was originally from South Africa, and his Cape Dutch (now called Afrikaans) was better than hers. So, their patient was a Boer!

When Geoff introduced himself, the Boer explained that his name was Hendrik van der Meer, and that he owned a farm not far from that of Diana's father, Angus Hardy. Indeed, when she saw him, Diana recognized him. "Mynheer van der Meer!" she exclaimed. "What happened?"

When he was fully conscious, he spoke good English. He managed a slight smile. "Ah, Diana! When I saw you and those blonde girls, I thought that I had died and was seeing angels. They are _mooie meisies_, pretty girls, indeed. You must introduce us, if I live long enough. I was coming to Nairobi when my truck broke down and I had to try to hike to your distinguished father's place. But that lion found me, and he was in a foul mood. He was scratched up a bit from what I suspect was a fight with a rival. He had probably been cast out from a pride that he used to rule, and I was unable to avoid a charge. I shot him twice as he came, but he got to me, and I think I have a broken rib or two and a lame leg, which he bit rather badly. He died as he bit, or the thigh bone would probably have been crushed. I pried myself loose and crawled over here to die. How did you find me?"

"You shot a vulture that I was watching in my binocular and we heard the shot, too," explained Finn. "The brunette lady here, the Countess of Avebury, said that someone might need help. And our hunters had to see anyway if there were poachers. So, we came and we found you." She knelt by van der Meer and bathed his burning head and gave him more water. "Look, would you like some tea? We're going to have to get you to the car and my husband and the hunters will get you cleaned up. You'll need some of my husband's antibiotic medicine. You're badly injured. Maybe a cup of tea will help you feel better while we work on you."

He grimaced, obviously in considerable pain. "You are American? Canadian? Your husband is a doctor?"

"_Nee, Mynheer_, not North American, but South, "said Blacklaws."She was Brazilian, but married a prominent professor who is a master of primitive medicine, among other things. Mrs. Challenger is now British, but speaks English in the US way, for she learned that language from Americans and their descendants. We do have an American gentleman with us, though, Mr. Ned Malone, a famous author. Would you rather talk to him than to us _'rooineks'_?" He smiled to show that he was joking.

In spite of the pain, van der Meer laughed. "Just now, I will talk to whoever will save my life, I think. But Mrs. Challenger, you do not look like the Portuguese girls whom I've seen in Mozambique. I thought that a_ brasileira _would?"

Finn rested a cool hand on his head. "My parents and most of our close neighbors were Anglo, from the USA. But I speak Portuguese as well as I do English. Look, here's my husband, Prof. George Challenger, the world's greatest living scientist. I'll let him look at you and get you looked after. But I'll be right by him, if I can help."

Van der Meer looked curiously at Challenger and asked, "The greatest living scientist? What do you do, _Mynheer_? And, truly, do you think that you can save me? I am in a bad state. I know what happens to men who have been mauled by big cats."

They stopped the bleeding, cutting away van der Meer's clothes as needed and got him into one of the trucks. Then they drove for half a mile to where they could set up shop under a grove of trees. The cool shade of the trees made it easier to tolerate the heat as they worked feverishly to save a life.

Challenger set the Africans to boiling a large kettle of water, and told their group that van der Meer needed a transfusion. "I'll want volunteers, giving maybe two pints until we see how he responds. Finn, I'd rather that the men volunteered. You have less blood. Get the blood types of the volunteers and meanwhile, let's get the rest of his clothes off and clean him up. _Mynheer_, lie still and have faith. I have a brilliant new medicine that will combat the infection from the lion's claws and teeth. I saved three lives in Brazil with this after Indians were mauled by jaguars. If we can stabilize you, I think you'll pull through. Drink some more, please. You're dehydrated. But I don't see any stomach wounds, and the ribs didn't pierce the lungs. "

A groggy patient looked at Finn and murmured, "The greatest living scientist?"

Challenger laughed and said. "I married a very loyal and admiring wife, van der Meer. But I am rather famous, and I do have my small talents. I've seen men injured worse than you, and saved them. God willing, I will save you, too."

Finn tested the men for blood types and took van der Meer's blood sample and typed it. Challenger had taught her, and she had seen similar things done in New Amazonia. Actually, she had once saved her husband, long before their marriage, when he had become dehydrated from drinking one of his experiments. At the time, they were still new acquaintances, he more a father figure and mentor to her, although she had already begun to care for him, knowing that he returned her feelings. (See, "The Elixer" episode on, "The Lost World.")

In the end, Hamilton and Roxton each donated a pint, and Finn conducted the transfusions. As she worked, Challenger injected the victim with an anasthetic, and he washed out the wounds with red wine, which had antibiotic properties, as well as containing alcohol. Marguerite stitched the gashes, using a sterlilized needle, and Challenger gave an anti-tetanus shot. He then injected van der Meer with his special antibiotic preparation, hoping that it would indeed suffice.

After the blood had been passed into the victim, Challenger added some sterile saline solution, for van der Meer still looked pale. The scientist was concerned that he might go into shock and wrapped him in a blanket as soon as he had been bandaged. He blessed his forethought in bringing a good medical kit in one of the trucks, more complete than the first aid kits carried in each vehicle.

When they were done, they made van der Meer as comfortable as possible, and with the Challengers sitting by him, they made for the Hardy farm, some 20 miles distant.

On their reaching the farm, Hardy shook hands quickly with his son-in-law and hugged his daughter, then went to his neighbor. "Hendrik, how are you? Had a run-in with a lion, I hear."

"_Ja,_ I am bad off, but the lion is worse. These kind people have tried to put me back together, and the professor says that his miracle medicine may let me survive. Perhaps I will. It is said that only the good die young, isn't it?" He smiled and then winced as the pain struck him.

"Right, we'll want nurses to keep an eye on our patient," said Challenger. "We'll try to stagger the girls so as to keep the married couples apart as little as possible. In fact, I daresay the men had better help, too. The shifts will be shorter. Not that Mynheer van der Meer wouldn't prefer to find one of the lasses waiting by his bed when he wakes. I know that I would."

Roxton agreed. "I've been in a few hospitals. The gentle qualities of a nurse can be soothing, more nurturing. Of course, some of those nurses that I had were old battle axes, very difficult to know. But the girls here are so pretty and so nice that they cannot fail to take his mind off of his pain and cheer him as he heals. Why, they may be a significant factor in his recovery!"

His wife spoke next. "Mr. Hardy, if you'll lead us to the kitchen, the other girls and I will cook supper. It's time for that, and we're all hungry, as you probably are."

"Marguerite, please call me Angus. After what we went through together last year, and the way that you saved my Diana from those cursed slavers, we hardly need stand on formality. And you are a guest in this home. My staff will get the meals. They should be ready about now. We expected you after all, so I had roast beef underway. Thought you might like a respite from eating just game. We also have three chickens cooking for those who prefer poultry. Please come in and help me choose the wines. And I expect that you want to wash up after your journey? We can put van der Meer in a guest room just off of the living room, where it'll be easy to reach the restrooms and the kitchen. Those on sick duty can easily get refreshments there. Send your Africans down to the village where my own blacks can see that they're fed and housed."

He referred to the safari of the previous year, when all of the women save for Finn had been captured by slavers. Marguerite had managed to escape with Diana Hardy, as Veronica entertained their Arab captors by dancing nude in the ringleader's tent. Marguerite had gotten her hands freed on the pretext of needing to use the bushes for urinary relief, taken a knife, and killed two guards. She then fled with Diana. Later, they had saved Veronica and met Holly and Susan, who had been taken separately by colleagues of the slavers. Marguerite had taken great satisfaction in killing a treacherous servant and in wounding Khalid, the ringleader. That worthy was later hanged, Finn having killed his cousin at the time the girls were rescued. (Finn had been out hunting with the men, so she was spared capture.) Holly and Diana had soon married Geoff Blacklaws and Stuart Hamilton, who had been among their rescuers. Susan Wilson, shamed by her captivity, feared to return to her bank job in Nairobi and had eagerly accepted a position as Finn Challenger's secretary and assistant. The case had become international news when Britain had gone to war with the despot who had contracted for the women's capture, the Sultan of Amarrah. (Fictional country.) This tale was told in the Fic, _On Safari_, which is, alas, no longer on the Net. This villain was the son of the former Sultan who had once held a younger Marguerite Krux slave for a year. See the Fic, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or How Marguerite Learned to Dance" on this board for that account.

"Well, Angus it is, then," smiled the Countess. "Let's get Mr. van der Meer into his room and settle the rest of us. May John and I have the same room as last time? That was heavenly, after spending weeks in the bush."

So it was that they were all settled in and ready to eat within an hour. Their patient had lapsed into a troubled sleep, Challenger having given him as strong a painkiller as he felt prudent.

"That chap was certainly clawed up," remarked Roxton. "He's lucky that the lion died within seconds of reaching him. I say, Finn, why don't you tell about that lion that slammed into you? That was the most remarkable escape from a mauling that I've ever heard of!"

So Finn and Challenger took turns explaining how a lioness that was dying from their bullets nevertheless managed to tumble into her as it collapsed. Finn had gone flying, her sun helmet breaking the impact of her head landing. But she had been bounced into a bush that had broken the impact of her fall, and her beloved Holland & Holland .375 Magnum rifle had landed on the telescopic sight and rolled onto a patch of thick grass. The 'scope's reticle (crosshairs) was broken, but the rifle itself was unmarred and could be used normally with the iron sights. Finn had been bruised for a week, but other than being stiff and sore, she was well, and her mate had helped matters a lot by gently massaging her aching body and telling her how dear she was to him. And she had blessed his pain killing pills. (This took place in a fic called, "A Lion Comes!" not now on the Net. That tale also described the revolt led by a malevolent witch doctor that will be referred to in this story.)

"Quite remarkable," said Hardy. "You are certainly unmarred, Mrs. Challenger. As lovely as ever. I take it that we can expect to read about this in your next book?"

"Hell, yes," she replied. "I'm not losing a chance to sell books by putting that in. But it's a heck of a way to do research!"

That brought a laugh, and Marguerite asked what they might "research" on the morrow. "I want to shoot another leopard, if you've got one bothering you just now."

"No worries, Marguerite," the gentleman farmer responded. "There are at least four leopards here now, and one in particular has eaten more than its share of my stock. Stuart can take you out after it. Diana will know the area where it operates. But my biggest problem of late, at any rate with wild animals, has been with a caracal, what van der Meer's people call a _rooikat_. Red Cat. It's a tropical lynx with a sort of ruddy or bay color and long tufts on its ears. One got into a barn here and killed 15 lambs last week. Only ran off with one. They're notorious for excess killing, although leopards sometimes do that, too. Just kill for the sheer joy of it, I suppose. I always think of that when some philosophical sod declares that Man is the only animal that kills for pleasure."

"Bluefish do that," contributed Ned Malone. "Off the US eastern coast, schools of them tear into baitfish and eat so much that they throw up and tear into still more fish. Real gluttons."

"I've seen Africans do that," Roxton said. "They sometimes go ape, pardon the usage, when they have access to so much meat after being without for a long spell. Maybe the other species do that, in joy at plentitude."

"Could we please discuss something else?" asked Susan, and Holly agreed.

"Just the thought of such overeating is making my inner diet woman cringe!" Veronica laughed, but the thought hurt. More than her best friends, she had to be careful how much she ate. She was proud of her trim figure and took pains to maintain it. But she was mildly jealous that Finn, Susan, and Marguerite had faster metabolisms and could eat more than she could without showing any negative effects.

"Finn and I will take on your caracal, Angus," offered Lord Roxton. "That's all right with you, Darling?" He glanced at Marguerite.

The Countess shrugged. "Why ever not? Orion and Diana at play, once again! But if anyone can ambush that destructive kitty, it's my favorite couple, the Gun People. Look here: what can I do before hunting that leopard? Do any of you girls want to just roam about a bit and take some photos? Susan, I'd like you to go, if Finny can spare you. And I want to watch some of those colorful birds around the waterholes here, and maybe see some antelope that I don't have to stalk to shoot for groceries. They're so lovely."

"Ma'am, may I? I'd quite like that." Susan liked Lady Roxton and her droll humor, and she had grown to love seeing the remarkable animals of this beautiful country. Although she had lived in Kenya for years before taking the job with the Challengers, she had lived in Nairobi, not earning enough from her job as a bank clerk to see much of the country. She had been thrilled to actually go on safari and shoot game on her own.

Finn shrugged. "Sure, totally go for it. After Mr. van der Meer gets better and Johnny and I get that cat, I want to do the same thing. But that brings up our patient. Are we going to drive him into Nairobi, or what?"

"Before we came in to dinner, I put out a radio call about him to a hospital in Nairobi and to the nearest DC post, "explained Angus. "It seems that he's better off here for a few days, until he mends a bit. Travel over those rough roads might be a bit grim for him. If he lives a week, a patrol due by here will take him along to the doctors. The one with whom we spoke was very impressed by what Prof. Challenger has done for him. "

"Figures," smirked Finn."George is a very impressive man. Talent on loan from God." She had heard that term somewhere in New Amazonia. "If he can't heal van der Meer, probably no one could."

Challenger reached over and caressed Finn's hair. "Thank you, Darling, but I think that the Almighty Himself must help us more than me. That fellow is in a bad way, but if my little preparation can prevent infection, I think he will survive. But apart from you and John killing that cat, you and I will need to be available for him for several days."

"S'okay," said Finn. "I can still get a bushbuck, I hope, and take some more pictures. But why did he call us _'rooineks_'? You said that the caracal is a red cat, _rooikat_. Does that mean he thinks that we're reddish? I don't see much difference us British and the Dutch, as far as looks. We just sound better when we talk." She grinned at that witticism, and others smiled, too.

"I can answer that," said Geoff, the former South African. "The Dutch settlers had been here for hundreds of years before we began arriving in Africa in numbers. As newcomers, we tended to sunburn more than they did. So, they called us _'rooineks_', rednecks. I take it that in Ned's nation, the term means rustic bumpkins. That isn't implied in the use of '_rooineks_.' Indeed, we English are usually the more cultured! But I must say, we are lucky that they don't call us much worse, after what happened to their families in Lord Kitchener's concentration camps during the Boer War. You fought in that, Angus?"

Their host nodded. "Yes, I did a spell in the Cape Mounted Rifles. That was a nasty business. I'm glad to see it over and the Union of South Africa replacing colonial status. Many Boers still hate us, and I think some were rather hoping that the Germans would win the World War. But many of those who came up here are fine people. You recall the Prinsloo brothers and their families from when we all huddled in the D.C.'s fort with that mad witch doctor wanting our blood. And Hendrik is a good sort, a fine neighbor. I shall pray earnestly for his full recovery. I am so glad to have your assistance with him. Now, who wants more wine? This Chateau Latour is quite remarkable, isn't it?"

Marguerite smiled. "Indeed it is, Angus. Too good by half for blondes, I must say."

Finn, Veronica, and Susan all noisily demurred, and the dinner party went on to more pleasant discussion. But Hardy privately hoped that his friend would pull through. He hadn't looked good at all when brought into his home. He thanked his lucky stars that Challenger was there to work his wonders

CHAPTER TWO

The following morning, breakfast went well, but Challenger and Finn were tired from having monitored van der Meer's condition for most of the night, spelled at times by Hardy and the Hamiltons.

Marguerite reminded Diana that she and a few others wanted a general tour, and Diana said that she needed a few hours of sleep, after which she'd drive their all-girl expedition. She led Stuart off to their room, the one which had been hers as a girl.

Roxton and Blacklaws went off with Holly to look at something or other, and to select a tree for hanging a leopard bait. Marguerite and Veronica sewed for awhile, then Marguerite cornered Susan and Veronica and suggested that they take a car and go out and about on their own. Why wait for Diana?

"Is that safe?" wondered Susan. "Mrs. Challenger is asleep. I'd better not wake her to ask if I can go. Vee, what do you think?"

Veronica shrugged. "Ned can look after our patient, and Mr. Hardy is here. Let's pack a lunch and some other things and take our trip. If we wait, something will come up and we'll be told that we can't go."

Susan giggled. "You're right. I'll get my camera and some other gear, and see you girls out back in a few minutes."

Marguerite pumped her arm in a victory signal and all three women laughed. "Girls' day out," shouted Veronica, to the amusement of the others.

They loaded food, water, and a few other items, plus their rifles and a medical kit, and told Angus Hardy that they were going.

He was uneasy, but consented to tell the others where they had gone. He drew a map of his property and urged them not to get much beyond sight of the house. Then he went in to comfort a moaning van der Meer and to make sure that he swallowed the pills that Challenger had left on the dresser in his room. Bandages also needed changing, and Ned and Hardy were soon deep into that, checking for infection as they worked.

Marguerite decided to drive and they went carefully out of the enclosure around the house and off to the northwest. The track was easy to follow at first, and they waved to a group of women working in the fields, who shouted, _"Jambo, mem'Sahibs_!" and grinned. They remembered how this safari had killed a Cape buffalo a few months before, when Finn and Susan had put their own lives on the line to stop a determined _m'bogo _that was chasing two black women near this very spot!

Soon, they had the track to themselves and the isolation, the sounds, and the visual wonders of the savage bush country reminded them that they were on their own. Later, they would rue the impulse that had prompted them to set out without a guide or their men. For now, fun was fun, and they were having it!

They stopped to film brilliantly colored birds at a pool on a small river, and outran a rhino that chased them. Susan was especially thrilled to film the charge, knowing that it would be seen in theaters as Mrs. Challenger narrated her journey.

They paused for lunch in a lovely glade above the river, where they could watch a wide array of antelopes and other animals, including several giraffes. They watched through binoculars as a pair of cheetahs ran a Tommy gazelle to ground.

"Have you ever seen anything that fast?" asked a stunned Veronica.

"Only when Roxton is is a rush to undo my buttons," grinned the Countess.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Roxton and his friends returned and checked in with the Challengers, who reported that Hendrik van der Meer was sleeping, although in pain. Challenger had dosed him again with antibiotics made from plants discovered in the Amazon, and they had cleaned the wounds again, finding that the swelling and redness were somewhat reduced, and there was no more pus. He had been able to keep down some chicken soup, which Challenger said was good for him, and he was able to drink water and fruit juices. The fever was less, but still a concern.

"Where's Marguerite?" asked Lord Roxton as the group assembled for a late lunch.

"Oh, dash it all!" exclaimed Hardy. "I quite forgot to tell you: she, Susan, and Veronica went off for a tour around the estate this morning. Said that they were bored and would stay near the house. I expect them back at any moment, but we may as well eat. I expect that Susan got involved taking photos, and there is really a lot to see here. I love this land, and sometimes, I tour it and feel like a lad in a candy store. Or, a man in paradise!"

Finn looked thoughtful. "It isn't like Susan to go somewhere without telling me."

"We were sleeping, and needed to," reminded her mate. "I doubt that they've gone far. I'm sure that they're well armed, and smart enough to avoid most hazards here."

"Ah, Professor!" said Hardy. "I meant to tell you: I saw a very large brown cobra last week, not a type that I've encountered before. You mentioned hazards, and that reminded me. Alas, I was unable to catch it. That sort of thing is too risky. Saw it in the henhouse, but I imagine that it was looking for rats, which is fine by me. I just hope that it doesn't bite any of my wogs who surprise it. But cobras and other snakes are a daily threat here. Fortunately, we see surprisingly few. I had to shoot an aggressive one about a month ago but it was the common Egyptian variety. No shortage of those." (The long brown cobra that he saw has since been officially discovered by Science. Not too creatively, it is called the Large Brown Spitting Cobra, _Naja ashei_. The so-called Egyptian cobra, _Naja haje_, ranges through most of sub-Saharan Africa.)

"I'm hungry," said Finn. "Let's eat and save them some. What's for lunch?"

They were soon sitting down to the remains of the roast beef and some guinea fowl brought back by the group that had gone to seek out a suitable tree in which to place a dead antelope to attract a leopard. The food was superb, and they soon put aside the matter of the missing women, Roxton reasoning that they had to be back soon for Marguerite to shoot a bait antelope and watch it hanged in the tree. She was keen to get another leopard, and her husband had no reason to think that the ladies were lost, although he was mildly miffed not to have her with him at lunch.

CHAPTER THREE

Out on the estate, Marguerite took a wrong turn, onto a path that led off of Hardy's land. The fork on his map was unclear due to weathering of the actual road, or what passed for one this far out from the main buldings. And elephants had damaged the vegetation and tracked up the path so that it was indistinct.

The three women had no clue that they were motoring off of the farm and into the trackless wilderness. The Hamilton farm lay at the other side of the property. Here, for miles, there was just what they jokingy called MMBA...Miles And Miles of Bloody Africa!

They pulled over and watched elephants file past in the distance, the wind blowing from the animals toward the women, so that the pachyderms didn't catch the human scent and bolt or charge. A charge could easily have been fatal, for the bush was now too thick to drive at very high speed.

They saw more giraffes, laughing as a pair of males sparred with their long necks. And they admired a secretary bird as it strode along looking for snakes and other prey in the grass. It was basically a long-legged terrestial eagle, with its stately grace something that Veronica admired.

After a time, they turned back and had to cross some stony ground. All went well, driving in low gear, slowly, avoiding any obstacles that they could. Then they heard a scrape and a thud from beneath the car. Marguerite applied her foot to the accelerator, and they pulled free of whatever had snagged them. All breathed easier.

Susan voiced concern that the car might have been damaged, but it drove normally, and they soon forgot the matter.

They stopped for lunch, glad that they had brought snacks and plenty of water and ginger ale. They built a small fire on a bare patch of rocky ground and boiled water for tea.

Before long, Marguerite asked where the ladies' room might be. Veronica laughed and gestured toward a clump of trees and a boulder.  
Marguerite rolled her eyes and strode off to tinkle, watching for snakes.

When she returned, Susan decided to go to the same area, rather than cast around for another place. That one at least held no surprises! But as she returned to the car, a large savannah monitor lizard shot out of a hollow beneath a rock and took off right in front of her. Susan screamed and fumbled for her revolver, not having bothered with a rifle. Fortunately, the reptile was more interested in fleeing than in attacking, and she felt a bit foolish as her friends came running to her aid. They all laughed when she explained, and Veronica said that she would have been afraid, too.

"I'm just glad that the men weren't here," muttered Marguerite. "They treat us as if we were children, or at any rate not fully competent adults. They'd have had a fine laugh at your expense, Susie."

Susan colored. "Yes, ma'am, but the truth is that they treat us that way because they worry about us. I like feeling protected and valued. Mrs. Challenger sometimes talks to me about how competent she was as a survivor in that New Amazonia place, but she admits that after she got settled in with you people, she realized just how vulnerable she was. She was really worried that day when you and Lord Roxton and the professor found her and let her come back with you from wherever that city was. I think it means the world to her to know that the professor loves her so much. I can only hope to someday meet a man who'll think that highly of me. "

Veronica smiled, thinking how competent she was in the jungle at home, and how she had hardly needed the men. Indeed, from the age of 11 until she was in her 20's, she had been without parents or husband, although living at times with the Zanga Indians. And the Amazons had let her mature enough to get by on her own, and had shown her how to use edged weapons and archery gear effectively. She knew how to use a spear, too.

Then, she sobered as she remembered how much she now relied on Ned, who had grown wiser and more capable. And he was there to watch her back, a massive comfort on many days. If at first she had saved him, there had been more recent times when he and their other friends had saved her own life.

"Ned has his points," she admitted. "I needed him to have children, and it is nice having him to lay my head on and snuggle up to at night. I did get really lonely until you and the others arrived, Marguerite. And when the slavers took us last year, my greatest fear was that I'd never see him again. I feel happier when he's around, and even safer. Don't tell Finnykins, but I think that Ned is as good a candidate for Husband of the Year as George is. Once I decided that he meant more to me than a brother, it hit me how incomplete I'd felt until he gave me that ring on our way back from Xochilenque." (That tale, _The Crystal Skull_, is no longer on the Net. But it told how the explorers had taken a huge treasure out of the dreaded Tecamaya city of Xochilenque, at grave risk to their lives. Indeed, Ned and Finn had had to free Veronica from captivity in a cage beneath the stadium where the sacred ball game was played. She had been destined to be a slave of the captain of the winning team. Seeing Ned's face had meant the world to her as he helped Finn to kill two guards and sever her bonds. The Roxtons would have likewise remained captives, had not their friends saved them. But they did escape, and with much gold and jewels, enough to give them all a secure life for some time to come.)

Marguerite blushed. "All right, I guess that the boys do have their uses. But I'm still glad that we came out here on our own. It leaves me feeling free and empowered."

"Yeah, if you're so free and empowered, what's this black sticky stuff behind the car? It seems to be oozing out from underneath, too. Is that oil?" Veronica suddenly wished very much that the men were there!

The women walked back for a distance on the their trail and realized that oil had been dripping for some time, probably since they'd hit the rock that had to be accelerated over. Shocked, they wondered what to do. None knew much about cars, but all knew that they needed oil to run, or the engine would seize and probably be ruined.

Anxiously, they put a blanket on the ground and Susan, the youngest, lay on it and used a flashlight to look under the car. She confirmed that a pool of the black stuff had collected as they ate lunch. So, they opened the hood of the car, called a bonnet in British usage, and tried to figure out how to tell if any oil was left.

"I've seen our chauffeur pull out some metal stick thingee with a ring on the top," recalled Marguerite. "This looks like it." They drew out the dipstick and looked carefully at the markings on it, noting that the oil didn't come very far up the stick. They concluded that not much was left.

"Well, ladies, I think we are in trouble," admitted Veronica. "We must be miles from the house, and no one has any idea where we are. I wish that George or some other genius would invent a telephone that could be used from a car! Now what?"

"The Challengers will be up by now," worried Susan. "I hope they won't mind my coming on this adventure. And it looks like we're about to have an adventure. Don't panic, but there's a herd of buffalo coming toward us." She pointed.

"I think it's time for Marguerite to say, 'Can this day possibly get any better,' " said Veronica. She tried to smile, but didn't quite manage.

"Get back into the car and sit still, but be sure that your rifles are loaded." Marguerite took her own advice.

Two had only lighter rifles, taken mostly in case they wanted to shoot an antelope for meat or saw an exceptional trophy animal. These were Marguerite's and Veronica's .275 Rigby's. The Rigby was simply the British version of the German 7X57mm Mauser cartridge, but was loaded with John Rigby's patented bullets, among the finest of their day. Susan had erred on the side of caution, bringing her .375 Magnum. Although any of these could kill a Cape buffalo, heavier rifles were usually preferred, giving a larger margin of safety in dealing with these massive animals that shook off shock if not killed with the first shot. And it would have to strike a vital nerve center to shut the animal down on the spot. If one charged, a shoulder would need to be broken, and a buffalo, unlike an elephant, could run on three legs! The best course was to wait until the last moment and take the frontal brain shot, placing a bullet just beneath the horns, praying that the shot was true and didn't hit the massive horn boss. If there was any error, a heavy bullet might penetrate and strike the brain where a .275 or .30 bullet might or might not have enough energy to drive through and do the job. Susan shuddered as she remembered the tenacity of the big bull that had pursued the African women earlier. She and Finn had had their work cut out for them, and Finn had used her heavy rifle, a .450/.400 Jeffery. Susan didn't share Finn's zeal to kill a really big bull, with horns that would span as widely as one on the wall of Marguerite's half-brother, Lord Lindemere. (The story of how Marguerite met her half-brother and his wife and sister was told in, "Murder in a Stately Mansion", no longer on the Net. However, we can briefly note here that Charles Tremayne (Lord Lindemere) and his wife Felicity had embraced Marguerite into their family, while a sister had conspired to kill her, to avoid having to share their inheritance. The evil sister also feared that Marguerite's illegitimate birth would sully the family honor. Felicity had become one of Marguerite's dearest friends, and Finn Challenger loved visiting the Lindemere estate and talking hunting with Charles, a genial host who truly loved his new half-sister and who hit it off well with her husband.)

"If we sit tight and the wind doesn't give them our scent, we can brass this out," announced Veronica. "What I'm really worried about is a stampede if they scent us and panic."

"They go around trees and big boulders in those stampedes," noted Susan. "Maybe the car will look look like an obstacle to be avoided."

But they were fortunate. The breeze moved slowly and the herd fed past and trotted off without getting closer than 200 yards from the car, which was concealed within brush from their angle of view. Buffalo had very keen hearing and smell, as well as exceptional eyesight. But if not wounded or panicked into a stampede, the huge bovines were usually fairly tranquil. The one that had chased the native women on Hardy's land had had an ankle badly injured in a black poacher's snare meant to catch a smaller animal. In pain, it had been furious. Susan sometimes still had nightmares from that experience!

They reviewed their situation and decided to try to move the car onto a more open area, where they could be seen from a distance if searchers came. And that might give them warning if lions or other threats approached, and let them see snakes more easily. But how much oil was left in the car? Dare they drive far at all?

As Marguerite eased the clutch and moved them forward, Veronica glanced at the sky. It was now late afternoon, and if they weren't found soon, they would need to spend the night on this dangerous savannah!

Marguerite turned the car to face NW, which gave them a good view from the sides toward where they expected rescuers to appear, and let them face the direction from which they had come.

The women debated whether to stay in the car, Veronica saying that a lion could reach right in through the open sides and hook one of them out. "When it gets dark, anything at all may wander by here, and some of it may be hungry. I think we'd better have a fire and build a thorn boma."

Susan was apprehensive. "But a rhino may charge a fire! And it would probably come right through any fence that we can build. We have a couple of pangas (machetes) and an axe, but cutting and moving that thorn bush is hard, and we could get scratched. We should have taken a couple of the African 'boys' with us!"

Marguerite shook her head. "No, this trip was just for us. We aren't blessed with foresight, not even me, usually. But Veronica is right about the car being too exposed. And we need to make a fire far enough from the car that the petrol fumes don't set off an explosion if the wind blows the flames a little this way. And we'd better get busy and cut some thorn. That sun is sinking fast. I found a pair of gloves. We can take turns wearing those. It'll be easier on our hands."

They argued longer, but the idea of the fire and the thorn boma won, and they selected a high piece of ground about 50 yards from the car. They brushed a rocky space clear and Susan began bringing wood as the others chopped thorn bushes and arranged them to surround their camp site. Rhinos would have to be chanced. They were more concerned about snakes and, especially, about lions!

As if in response to their fears, they heard lions exchanging roars on the savannah, and they didn't seem far away! They chopped thorn scrub faster, looking with dread at the coming dusk...

CHAPTER FOUR

Meanwhile, the others were growing quite worried about their missing friends. Roxton fretted, pacing, looking out the window, and finally asking Hardy again when the women had left.

"I didn't check the time," said their host, "but it was shortly before noon. I was more concerned at the moment with Hendrik, whose bandages I was changing. They were supposed to be back in an hour or two, though, and not to stray far. I fear that something has gone wrong."

"Dash it all, man, why did you let them go? Three bloody women, on their own?" Roxton was frustrated with worry and indignation that something like this could have happened.

"Steady on, John," said Challenger as Hardy bristled. "Angus is Marguerite's host, not her jailer. And he is a very gracious man, trying to care for a gravely ill neighbor. You know Marguerite. If she wanted to go, she was going to go, and the other ladies were probably inspired by her example."

"Bickering won't get us anywhere," pointed out Ned Malone. "I'm as worried about Veronica as John is about Marguerite, and if I know Finn and George, they're worried sick about all three, especially Susan, who has the least experience in wild areas. What we need to do is try to think where they went and mount a search party. It's after 3:00 PM, and we have only a few hours to find them before dark comes. It gets dark really quick here after dusk begins. And it's a dark dark, too. We can't drive around in the night without breaking an axle in an ant bear hole or incurring some other damage to the cars or ourselves. So, who's going to look for them? I danged sure am." And his determination was evident from the grim look on his face.

They held a conference, and decided that Geoff and Holly would stay with Angus Hardy, who might need assistance with van der Meer or to help treat the women if they showed up injured. Because Diana had grown up on this estate, she and Stuart would lead the search group, with Ned in their car. Roxton would drive a second car, with the Challengers joining him.

They took blankets and medical supplies, extra food and water. And they added a few containers of gasoline (petrol), for there was a good possibility that the only problem was that the women had run out of gas. Roxton fervently hoped so, although the African car boy swore that the tank had been full on the vehicle that Marguerite drove.

Before he left, the Earl approached Hardy and apologized. "I got a bit overwrought awhile ago, Angus. Please forgive my outburst. I behaved badly."

Hardy regarded him coolly, and then offered his hand. "Quite understandable, old chap. If Diana was out there lost, I would be a bit frazzled, myself. Love does that to one. I barely held onto myself when the slavers had her last year. I certainly know how you feel about your loved ones now, and I and my staff will do all in our power to find those missing women."

"Come on," urged Ned Malone. "We haven't got all day!"

On the savannah, the women paused for a rest, and estimated how wide a circle their thorn boma could be. It had to enclose all three of them and be wide enough not to catch fire. So, they made it thinner than really desired, but got a circle of the wait-a-bit thorn bushes around them. But it wasn't high enough to prevent a determined lion from jumping the fence, and they worried about that. Still, most lions would be more likely to try to reach them on a lateral level. The thorns would dissuade all but the most determined carnivores, and if they had to, they could shoot.

But that wasn't as easy as it seemed. The 7mm (.275) rifles both had telescopic sights, intended for shooting at longer ranges. At close range, in firelight, it would be difficult to sight on a big cat and get it in the viewing field of the 'scopes. Their 4X magnification would preclude choosing a vital spot to shoot a lion, the fur filling the field of view at such close distance. They would rely mainly on Susan's iron-sighted H&H .375 Magnum, also the the most suitable gun due to its added power. Susan was sober, aware of her responsibility to deliver them from danger. But she knew and loved this rifle. Despite its heavier recoil over her .275 and her .303, it was dead accurate and struck a mighty blow. Many thought its caliber the ideal one for lion and similar-sized animals.

"Better look at about two o'clock, ladies," warned Veronica, reaching for her rifle. A party of tall natives was approaching, carrying shields and long spears. They wore only loose blanket-like robes, and their anatomy showed as they trotted arrogantly toward the women. Veronica cycled the bolt of her Rigby, loading a cartridge into the chamber. She wished fervently that Ned and the others would find them soon.

"Masai," spoke Marguerite, watching the men in her binocular. The warlike tribe had been one of the most feared obstacles to white settlement in Kenya, and the women shivered at their approach.

The Masai were not wearing their famed lion mane headdresses, but they were not supposed to be carrying shields, the government banning that to help maintain peace between the tribes. In the old days, they had been mightily feared, raiding for women and cattle from what they deemed to be lesser peoples. Their colorful, ocher-painted buffalo hide shields added to their frightening aspect and the spears were longer than the men who carried them.

Marguerite remarked that they reminded her of the Danes who had attacked Saxon villages in Britain in the days of Alfred the Great. "Don't look too hostile," she warned. "Maybe they'll see our rifles and pass by. But don't aim at them unless they attack. There must be at least 40 of them."

They stood fast, rifles slung or held across their bodies, and the warriors swung by, pointedly ignoring the white women. They moved with insolent grace, though, and the ladies knew that they had been evaluated as women and that the Masai wanted to impress them and scare them. But they made no move to attack, and soon clattered out of sight, their trotting pace eating up the miles.

Susan breathed with relief as the party passed out of sight. She remarked that they reminded her of the also warlike Zulu from South Africa. Geoff had told them how the Zulu _impis_(regiments) could run 50 miles a day and attack their hapless victims. All three girls shuddered, and thanked their lucky stars that the Masai had not been hostile, only terrifying to behold. Veronica stroked the handsome walnut stock of her .275 Rigby and felt grateful that she now owned firearms. She would have hated to face those men armed with just a knife or bow, and a rifle had much greater deterrent power in convincing a potential threat to move on and leave her in peace. Predators tended to seek easier victims than those standing ready with repeating rifles!

But darkness would fall before long, and she wondered what would come next to survey them and evaluate their potential as victims?

As if in answer to her query, she heard the insane giggle of hyenas not far off, and the answering roars of lions. The roars thinned her blood, and she shook slightly as she suggested that they gather more firewood and plan dinner. She was glad that she had not grown up here in the days when her kind were not yet human, shuddering in the night as the big predators prowled, looking for meat. But had that really changed? At least, the human weapons were better. But would they be good enough, in the faint flicker of firelight, where lions would be just beyond the thin thorn fence? What if they were caught sleeping? Veronica had seldom felt so helpless since she was a young girl. She drew her Smith & Wesson .38 and checked the loads in the cylinder and ran a thumb carefully along the edge of her sheath knife. It was a good one, an American Remington with a six-inch blade given to her by Ned. But she had no desire to see how it would fare if a lion got her down and it was her last hope.

"Let's eat," advised Marguerite. Veronica felt better, glad of the presence of her friends. And the setting sun was glorious as it ran rivers of crimson and henna across the horizon. Maybe things would be fine, after all.

But she could really have done without the cackles of deranged laughter that echoed as a pack of hyenas began their evening serenade…

They ate in the car, preferring its seats to the rough, hard ground. They had sandwiches left from lunch, but weren't sure if they were still good, so opened a tin (can) of beef for Marguerite and tuna for the others. They had some crackers, and there was hard candy to suck on, and a tin of raisins. Some half-wilted carrots... Fortunately, the water was holding out well, although by noon the next day, they would need more.

"You know what we forgot?" queried Susan.

"To pray?" asked Marguerite. She tried to sound sarcastic, confident, unafraid.

"No, ma'am," replied Susan. "I've been doing that. What I have in mind is that if we sleep on the ground by the fire,there may be scorpions. Stuart and Diana were telling Mrs. Challenger and me about them last week, They're quite nasty, and some are said to be as deadly as a cobra."

"The thrills never cease," muttered Veronica. "Well, we have bad scorpions at home, too, but I've never been stung. Maybe we won't be stung tonight." She brightened and laughed. "Maybe Morrighan will cast a spell, banning all scorpions, snakes, and the like from our merry thorn abode?"

Marguerite gave her an amused glance, then drew her knife. "Sorry, Veronica. I brought the wrong cutlery. I need my special spell-casting dagger for that. But I do recall a chant by Merlin that ought to work...if I had the right dagger and silver moon symbol. I really need to come better prepared for these overnight campouts. I told John that we ought to go to the south of France, but, no, he and Finn had to insist on this blasted safari! So, here we sit, spelless and hopefully, scorpionless. But I'm more worried about lions and snakes. And about how mad John is at me right now for risking all of our lives."

"Ma'am, you couldn't know," soothed Susan. "We probably just took a wrong turn. The ground was pretty vague when we studied that map. But I feel sure that our friends are out looking for us. Maybe they'll see the fire. Anyway, we have the pangas if we have to chop at a scorpion or snake and we can take in some sticks and rocks, too, and some sticks to light as torches if we need to scare animals trying to get at us or to see our way to and from the car. How many electric torches (flashlights, in US English) and spare batteries are there?"

Marguerite was impressed. "Finn has been teaching you, Susie. You'll soon be like her, the essential Girl Guide. Good idea: Let's find what we can and get it over to the boma. We need to light that fire before long. Veronica, get those water bottles. And we have some ginger ale still. I'll bring several bottles in this pack that someone left in the car. And we have two blankets. We can huddle under those when it gets so cold later at night."

"I'll bring the binoculars, too," said Veronica. I don't want porcupines getting into the car and eating the leather cases and the coverings on the instruments. But if one comes, maybe we should shoot it for food. We'll just have to be really careful with the quills!"

And so they prepared to pass the night on the savannah. It was rather exciting, thought Susan. But she would really rather have been back in her bed at the Hardy home. She asked herself, what would Mrs. Challenger do? But she could think of nothing that her heroine would do that they hadn't done. Except to take a compass and to pay more attention to where she was going!

CHAPTER FIVE

The rescue expedition followed the route suggested by Hardy, where he thought that Marguerite meant to go. But she had driven over twice as far as she'd told Angus, and then swerved off to the left at the indistinct junction. The ground held no tracks in places, and the rescuers were soon all but lost, themselves. The featureless bush beyond the main farm grounds was wild and ill-defined.

They stopped for a conference about 4:30 PM and Diana announced that the missing women had gone far beyond their announced plans. "I think they are really lost, and if we don't head back soon for the night, we are also going to have to be very careful not to get lost, too. Tomorrow, we can bring more petrol and and study Daddy's land deed and map. But I'm morally certain that they are off of his land right now. I'm very concerned that they aren't going to make it home tonight, unless they bypassed us and are there now." She looked tense,and Stuart laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We can't just abandon Marguerite out here!" thundered Lord Roxton.

But Finn touched his arm and said softly, "We may have to, Johnny. We all love her and Vee, and Susan is with them. But if we damage a car in the dark, we're going to be in a mess, too. And Angus and the Blacklaws's have to stay with Mr. van der Meer. George needs to get back there and make up some more medicine and check his wounds, too.  
We'd better give this another 15 minutes, then backtrack for the house."

Roxton gave her a scornful look. "Finn, I can't believe that you just said that. Not you, of all people."

Finn looked miserable and Challenger put his arm around her and pulled her to him. They looked into one another's eyes, and Finn tearfully put her head on George's shoulder and cried quietly. He comforted her, and Roxton mumbled an apology.

He felt like a heel, ashamed for hurting Finn when he knew that she was already emotionally as tight as a bowstring with worry over her friends.

Ned looked wanly at the Hamiltons. "Stuart, what are their chances if they're left out here all night?"

The white hunter shrugged. "Quite good, if they have water. And they won't die from thirst before we can come back tomorrow. If they stay in the car, they may be all right but I rather fancy that a thorn boma is safer, given the number of lions and hyenas out on the plains every night. I think I left a couple of pangas and an axe in that car, and those girls are smart. They should think of what to do. But there are indeed threats. I wouldn't relish being one of three women alone in lion country, in the night. I'm frankly very concerned, But Ned, your wife survived a long time on her own, from what you've said. She'll think of ways to cope, and they have guns. Let's give it a little longer, but when I say to return, we must. We have no real choice." And Diana nodded solemnly at Ned, confirming what Stuart had said.

It was a sad procession that filed back to the Hardy home, and as soon as they looked at their friends, Geoff and Holly knew the score.  
They offered tea and sympathy and led the way in to a fine dinner prepared by Holly with the assistance of the African chief cook.

Before they ate, Roxton took the Challengers aside and repeated his apology to Finn. She took his hand and told him that she hadn't stayed angry. "I was mainly hurt, Johnny. Anyway, I understand. I love Marguerite, too. And I can't stay mad at you: you're family, for all practical purposes, my big brother." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, then led him and Challenger in to dinner, holding a man by each of her hands.

"Well, it could be worse, I suppose," Roxton joked. "They say that only the good die young. Given her background, Marguerite should be safe."

"Ah," said Challenger. "There's the rub, John. They have Susan with them, and Susan is both young and genuinely good."

CHAPTER SIX

On the open savannah, the last evening shadows faded as darkness consumed the remaining illumination, drowning the shapes of both animals and distinctive terrain features. A dreadful curtain of black descended upon the plain, and the stars came out, startlingly clear in the unpolluted sky. The arrays of brilliant galaxies were so impressive as to stun a city dweller even in that time, let alone a century later. Finn had seen stars at this intensity in New Amazonia only because her society had broken down and the light pollution from huge metropolitan areas was gone, with the civilizations that had produced them.

The women reluctantly moved from the open-sided safari car into the thorn boma, Marguerite pulling the "gate" bush shut behind her.

"Well, ladies," she joked, "who wants tea and who'd prefer a glass of delicious, nutritious Chateaunneuf- du-Pape with your favorite after dinner cheese?"

Veronica laughed. "Sign me up for the wine, Marguerite. Can I have Havarti? That's Ned's favorite cheese, and Finny and George serve it at home back in Kent. I got to like it. Pity that the shops on the Plateau are a bit short of cheese selections, let alone wine. I told Ned that we should bring some when we go home, It'll keep okay if we can keep it cool until we get it in those limestone caverns that we used for storage when we all lived there. Seriously, have we really got some tea?  
You Limeys usually have some hidden on your persons. Did you check your purse, Countess? There may be some really good Darjeeling hiding in there."

Marguerite and Susan laughed. But it turned out that Marguerite had indeed salvaged a box of tea and a tin "billy" in which to boil it, from the car. They lit the campfire, rigged thick sticks to support the bail on the tea billy, and boiled water. Soon, they were sipping a fine grade of Ceylon tea that had been included in the chop box. (Happily, there were cups, which they rinsed out with boiling water.)

"All the comforts of home," observed Marguerite. "But making that joke about Chateauneuf-du-Pape made me want some. There are times when I prefer it to even really good red Bordeaux. Move over, girls. I'll toss down some seat cushions from the car. It beats sitting on bare, stony ground. We have our bush jackets for when it gets colder. While we sip our tea, let's take stock of our supplies."

"This is rather fun," laughed Susan Wilson. "It's rather like being a Girl Guide, except that we needn't sell cookies door-to-door!"

They counted ammunition: 20 spare cartridges for the .375 Magnum, which was fully loaded, 25 for one .275, and 30 for the other. Each Smith & Wesson six-shot .38 Special revolver had 12 additional cartridges on each woman's gun belt, and they each had a good sheath knife. There were 50 more .38 cartridges in a box, the American Winchester brand, with 158 grain lead bullets at a nominal muzzle velocity of 860 feet per second. (There were no Plus P high- velocity cartridges then, and the more powerful .38-44 high velocity loading wouldn't arrive on the market for another year. When it did, the factory earnestly advised that it be fired in their new gun, built on their .44 frame, for added durability with bullets departing the gun at some 1150 feet per second.)

Women usually have problems handling large-frame revolvers, so they were content with medium-framed ones, which were then fast becoming the standard of US police forces. All three carried the same basic model, although Susan and Veronica had chosen the version with a five-inch barrel and square butt, like the one that Finn had acquired on the Plateau, and continued to wear, although her present gun was a new one, bought in Britain. Her original one stayed at the Challenger estate in Kent, a valued momento of her trying days in Brazil. Marguerite had the version with a four-inch barrel and a rounded butt, which better fit her hand. The .38 Special lacked the smash of the .45 caliber guns carried by their men, but would penetrate well and could easily kill a man with a good hit to the central nervous system or the heart. Marguerite had once seen Finn drop a charging headhunter with her .38 at a range of 60 yards, and had seen the closeup effect when Finn had jammed her gun's barrel under the chin of another headhunter who was trying to bind Marguerite. The bullet had come out the top of the savage's skull, taking some brain matter with it. Marguerite still got a little sick to her stomach when she recalled that event. Now, the thought comforted her, lest the Masai return, or other natives come in the night. And if a .38 wasn't the best choice for lion, a heart shot at these close quarters might slay one. The thorn fence might keep it away from them as it died.

She knew of a South African game ranger named Harry Wolhuter who had stabbed a lion in the heart as it dragged him off. The hide had been displayed in Kruger National Park for years. (Note: this is a true story.) Surely, a revolver would do as well, if a vital spot was struck. But they would rely mainly on the rifles, which were of ample power, if well used and if they could see the lion in time to aim properly.

Each had a utility pocketknife of the sort sold in Switzerland as an Officer's knife. Finn had gotten a batch while vacationing there, and had distributed examples to her closest friends. They had used the can opener blade on one to get into the food they had in the car, and one would also open the bottles of ginger ale. These pocketknives would handle any finer cutting not well suited to the belt knives.

They were all dressed in light blue short-sleeved shirts, but Veronica wore shorts, while Susan had plain tan trousers like Finn usually wore. Marguerite wore a khaki skirt that reached just below the tops of her tall cordovan boots. They had bush jackets, with cartridge loops sewn on the front, and big pockets that carried each woman's idea of proper safari items. Susan had matches in hers, so they had a fire. But just 12 matches remained. If they had to walk back to the estate, they decided to take a burning torch to light their next fire, for they might well have to spend another night in the bush. Susan remarked that primitive men must have had to carry fire this way, until flint and steel had preceded matches. They would never again take a comfortable fire for granted.

They found other useful odds and ends, like tissue paper that could be used as tinder to start their next fire, and perhaps their mirrors might summon help after the sun rose. Marguerite and Susan had fountain pens, and a lipstick could be used to leave messages. If they walked, a letter left in the car with a crude map would tell rescuers where they had gone.

They sat near the small fire, huddling near its warmth. Veronica told a tale about North American Indians saying that they built small fires and sat close, while white men made large fires that wasted fuel and kept men from getting close enough for comfort. It was, of course, something that she had heard from Ned, having never read about the Old West, herself. But it was also true of the Zanga and other Brazilian Indians with whose habits she was familiar.  
They kept the fire small and comfortable, with only a limited supply of wood in reserve. They hoped fervently that the flames would last until daylight came.

"I'm not tired enough to sleep," declared Marguerite. "Who wants to tell ghost stories?"

Susan enthusiastically supplied a few, and although Veronica at first rolled her eyes at such things, she shivered as the tales had their effect on her, huddled with her friends in the cooling vastness of the primeval night.

Ghost stories were one thing, but chilling reality came creeping at about ten PM. They heard a snuffling noise from beyond the edge of the firelight and something heavy brushed against the fence behind them! The women lunged for their rifles, fearing the worst!

Marguerite flicked on their most powerful flashlight, and they saw a huge hyena softly outlined beyond their thorn barrier. It gazed hungrily at them, emitting a series of demented cackles that would have done justice to the three morbid witches in Shakespeare's, _MacBeth_.

Marguerite passed the torch to Veronica, and cast a rock weighing about a half pound through a gap in the barricade. "Begone, witch!" she adjured. "Hover away through the fog and filthy air!"

The slope-haunched beast yelped and snarled. Veronica looked at her brunette friend and asked, "Do you feel all right, Marguerite?"

Susan laughed. "Vee, that was a line from a play that has some mean witches in it. At least, we don't have to contend with a real fog tonight."

"Just as well, too," added the Countess. "For I want to discuss the Hound of the Baskervilles, and if this seemed like a foggy moor, I doubt that I'd have the brass for it." She smiled ironically at Veronica's baffled expression.

The Brazilian beauty shrugged. "You girls go right ahead and make fun of me. So, I haven't read some of your Limey plays and books. But I can put an arrow into a jaguar's heart in nothing flat, and I bet I know how to find food in the jungle better than you babes can."

Marguerite relented. "I didn't mean to satirize you, Veronica. You're still one of the three nicest blondes ever, and I love you. But that, _MacBeth_ play is pretty well known. I'll give you a book of it and the one by Doyle about the huge, horrid hound of the Baskerville family before you sail for South America."

The hyena had come back and snuffled and giggled as it tried to thrust its muzzle within the fence. The stench it gave off reminded Marguerite of the odorous Thames on a dank night, or worse.

Susan drew her revolver. "If that gargoyle-faced miscreant doesn't get out of here, I'm going to introduce his nose to a .38 bullet. With luck, said bullet will travel right into its perverted brain, and we'll hear no more from him!"

"How do you know that his brain is perverted?" laughed Mrs. Malone. She liked the droll English girl, who often made her laugh.

"Easy," said the younger blonde. "He's a bloke, isn't he? It's a rare chap who doesn't have perverted thoughts. Can't you tell that when they undress you with their eyes?" (At the time, Susan didn't know that hyena packs are led by a dominant female, the sexes of that species being very difficult to decipher.)

All three women thought that was rather funny, but Veronica pushed Susan's gun hand away. "If you shoot that smelly thing, we'll have to inhale its stink all night. Let me try something else."

She unsheathed her belt knife and scooted a few steps closer to the boma. When the panting hyena lunged for her, reaching with distended jaws, Veronica thrust her blade into its nose, squirting blood into the enclosure. The wounded predator howled in agony and bolted into the night, sparking a stampede by its pack, which had been lurking just beyond the firelight, eyes reflecting like those of demons.

"That should get us some peace," laughed Susan. "I say, Vee, that was awfully brave of you. You're my heroine!"

"Don't believe her," said Marguerite, trying to keep a straight face. "Susie worships Finny's shadow. At that, she could have far worse role models. Speaking of Finn, I wonder what our pals are doing for dinner tonight. I hope that Roxton doesn't get in a funk and fail to eat right because he's worried..."

"Don't worry, ma'am," assured Susan. "Mrs. Challenger will find a way to make him smile and keep up his strength to come find us. And Holly and Geoff are funny, too. They'll be a great help, I'm sure. Diana will find us tomorrow, or her father will, if someone else waits with poor Mynheer van der Meer."

That sobered them. "Yes, poor old Dutchman. I hope he pulls through. He was looking a bit grim when we left, though I haven't a clue what we might have done to help." Marguerite decided to offer a quiet prayer for van der Meer after her companions had settled down and grown quiet for the evening. She hoped that Susan would sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

At the Hardy home, Roxton agreed that a Chambertin of good vintage was a fine selection for the red wine. For the white, they opened a superb Premiere Cru Meursault. The Earl glanced at the labels, seeing that the house of Joseph Drouhin was the _negociant_, or businessman/shipper. Unlike in Bordeaux, where one looked for the words, _Mis En Bouteille Au Chateau_, to proclaim that the wine was genuine and bottled on the property where grown, Burgundian vineyards often had several owners, with some bits of the famous lands being of better or lesser quality than others. Thus the _negocient _who arranged for the wine to be bought, bottled, and shipped under his label meant a great deal to the informed consumer. Drouhin was among the best and most famous, a hero of the World War, something that Roxton and the other men at this dinner could respect.

"Good thing we defeated the _Boche_," laughed Hardy. "I'd hate to think of vineyards this splendid falling into the hands of the Hun!"

They joined in his laughter, and their host asked who would have white wine, and which, red.

"With what?" asked Finn Challenger. "Have we got fish or fowl?" Her palate watered for a meal, and the smells from the kitchen were heavenly. The ambrosia of the Grecian gods could have smelled no better.

"Have the lot," boasted Angus. "We have Nile perch from the river about ten miles away, and Cook has gotten to be quite good with fish, although Holly helped. The lemon-butter cream sauce is her doing. And we have guinea fowl or francolin. Potted some earlier when some of you went out looking for that bait tree for a leopard. And for red meat, I can offer Greater Kudu steaks that I think you'll find to be truly succulent." (The kudu is a large, spiral-horned antelope, one of the great African game species.)

"Oh, be still, my heart," laughed Finn. "One of you fellows distract my husband so that he doesn't see me make a little piggy of myself. May I please have some fish, and some of that grouse, maybe just one breast? With the Meursault? And I want a small steak with the red wine. I'm famished! We were out all afternoon and I need to replenish my inner woman."

Hamilton smiled at her. "If the inner woman looks as good as the outer woman, Finn, you're in fine shape. Professor, you did well to marry this lass when you had the chance! Of course, I feel the same about Diana, and I'm not saying that just because I'm eating at her father's table, and she's close enough to slap me if I upset her."

They laughed, even a wan Roxton smiling at Stuart's wry gallantry.

Diana teasingly slapped her mate with a spotless white linen napkin. "It's not my father's table that got you into my hands, Darling. It was seeing me _au naturelle _after Marguerite and I fled those slavers. I quite thought that your eyes might dislodge themselves from their sockets, the way you looked at me. Not that I minded. It was wonderful to feel so appreciated!"

"Well," said Stuart, "I was certainly aware that I was looking at the Eighth Wonder of the World. Architecturally, you're probably more impressive than Helen of Troy, and look at all the fuss she caused."

Diana blushed, and Challenger saw Holly and Geoff look at one another with silly smiles. Holly colored, and Challenger remembered the circumstances under which they had met. The white hunter had certainly gotten a good look at what he soon decided to marry! That thought ignited another in the scientist's great mind.

"I say, Angus, I don't suppose that our missing ladies might be victims of _shifta _(bandits) from up north, or local slavers? I should hate to have to deal with that again!"

Everyone grew quiet, recalling the horrors of that adventure. Hardy thought carefully, and then answered, "No, I shouldn't think so, George. We get those raiders from Somalia, but they seldom get this far into Kenya. If we were in the Northern Frontier District, I might be a bit leery of that. But, here? Probably even the local ivory poachers would steer clear of three armed white women. I wouldn't put it past some of those varlets who employ them, but probably not on a spur of the moment basis. No, the girls have most likely just run out of petrol or run into an ant bear hole. We'll surely find them. Mark you, I'm concerned: that is wild country out there. But I think slavers are the least likely answer. Cheer up, all. Eat hearty. You deserve it, after the work you did today. "

"What about Mr. van der Meer?" asked Diana."Is he better, Daddy?"

Hardy explained in some depth that his patient seemed to be holding his own, and had eaten a small meal earlier before dropping off into fitful sleep. "Best thing for him, I should think," he concluded. "Rest is crucial for him now. But, Professor, if you'll make up more of that antiseptic wash tomorrow..."

Later, John Roxton lay awake in his bed, the scent of his absent wife's perfume a familiar aroma that enchanted him on one hand and haunted him on the other, as he missed her. The pillow smelled of her, as did the sheets, and he grimaced at his failure to locate her. Life was so good, then, in the flash of an instant, could become forlorn and apprehensive. He missed her, the space beside his body cold to the touch. He tried to think positively, but railed at himself for sitting in that dining room, drinking Chambertin, while Marguerite might be fortunate to have even water. But it had been a wonderful meal with close friends, and he was amused that Ned Malone had raised the issue of Chambertin having been the favorite red wine of Napoleon. Ned had called him, "that French guy whose paintings always showed him reaching inside his coat to scratch himself."

Challenger had countered that Bonaparte was really holding a pistol inside his jacket, to shoot the artist if he didn't like the result of him sitting for so long in a stuffy studio.

Good old George...Roxton knew that his friends had tried to make him laugh and ease his fears. And it had worked, to a degree. Ned had even announced cheerfully that the ladies would be fine, because they had Veronica with them. Ned probably even believed that to a considerable degree, for his mate was indeed a shrewd survivor. But this was Africa, not the Amazonian jungle, and the dangers here were different, as was the country.

Well, there was nothing for it but to send up a prayer and hope that the day brought reunion with his loved ones. Could be worse. What if he was like poor van der Meer, hanging onto life by a thread, in agony from the claws and teeth of a savage beast? He thrust that thought aside, for lions were his greatest worry where Marguerite and the others were concerned. And Lord John Roxton, Earl of Avebury, had more than enough experience of lions to fear the worst.

In time sleep claimed his weary body, but he twitched in his slumber as nightmares wracked his mind. And he woke once, shivering at a dream in which lions were eating Marguerite and their friends as nearby hyenas howled with laughter, awaiting their turn to crunch the women's' bones for the marrow.

Finn cuddled next to Challenger, drawing both warmth and spiritual succor from his nearness. She rubbed noses with him and asked how tired he was.

"Why?" he responded. "Are you tired? Got a headache?"

"No, "she smiled."I'm not that kind of girl. If you have your heart set on doing something, I'm fully at your disposal. Remember, you're Husband of the Year. You deserve the best that I can offer. But I am a little wilted. so cut me some slack if I'm not at my peak."

He chuckled and pulled at a lock of her golden hair. "Darling, I daresay that at your most exhausted, you can eclipse most other women who are fully rested. When we get home, you are going up on that pedestal in our room, where I plan to proclaim you as Wife of the Year. That makes us Couple of the Year. I wonder if that status gets us any discounts in shops?

She smiled. "Probably not. People'd just say that we're biased about who's Couple of the Year. Maybe they ought to hold a contest. But if you didn't win as Husband, I'd sue. The contest wouldn't be honest. Hey, Genius? I love you! Thanks for taking me in and making something of me."

"I didn't make something of you, Finn. I only afforded you opportunities to show what you are made of. You did the rest. Stuart is right: I am a lucky man. Look: what time do you want to set the alarm for? I want time for a decent breakfast before we get underway, and John and Ned will be champing at the bit to leave at first light."

"I'll talk to them," she said. "You're not going anywhere until I get you fed. Me, too. The guys know they need to eat. They're just strung out, especially Johnny. Like I'm not worried sick, too, especially about Susan. She's so young and inexperienced! Please tell me that they're okay, Lover. Other than you and Johnny, I love those girls more than anyone else in this world. They're like a part of me! Until you gave me a home at Vee's place, I never knew what it is to care that much for someone else.  
Sometimes, it's kind of scary!"

She turned to look him in the eye, and he caressed her hair, telling her that all would be well. Finally, she smiled and cuddled closer, pulling the blankets over them. "You told me that we'd get off of the Plateau, Genius. I guess I trust you to be right this time, too. Get me up when you do. Whatever: you know what I mean. G'night, Lover."

Challenger laid awake, gently stroking Finn's shoulder and neck even after he realized that she slept. He hoped very much that he would be proven right. Other aspects of the situation aside, he wanted to never be wrong when he had promised his golden girl something. However much he valued Science, he valued Finn more. She was truly a pearl beyond price! And she was his! He prayed his thanks for this for the thousandth time, and then slept himself.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The Moon stood high in the sky, where it looked down on those snug in their beds behind safe walls. And it looked down on three women cowering in a makeshift thorn boma on the open veldt, where things had suddenly become less secure.

It had begun subtly enough. They heard the neighs of zebras in the distance, with the roars of hunting lions. Then, there had been the death cries of a zebra and the growls and grunts of feeding big cats.

The tense women had begun to relax, supposing that the feeding would appease the lions and keep them far from their small boma.

Veronica and Susan had wrapped themselves in one blanket, while Marguerite draped the other around her and took the first watch.

Veronica had made the predictable joke about how she normally limited herself to cuddling under a blanket to sessions with Ned. "You're pretty, Susan, but I'm not that sort of girl. I like guys." She laughed to show that she was teasing.

Susan refused to be intimidated. "Oh, dash it all, Vee! And I had such raw fantasies about us together! I've been eyeing your splendid legs in those shorts all day, and now you tell me that you're not AC/DC. Life is full of major disappointments, I suppose."

Marguerite smiled, recalling an occasion when a sleeping Finn had toyed with her as they huddled in the jungle with headhunters seeking them. The drowsing blonde had taken Marguerite for Challenger and had apparently been dreaming of things that she wanted George to do to her. She had been very embarrassed when Marguerite woke her and told her where her hands had gone and what they had accomplished. But those hands had been very skilled, and Marguerite shuddered a little as she recalled the event. (That Fic is no longer on the Net.)

She decided to discomfit Susan a little. "I should have thought that you and your beloved boss might get up to something, Susan. Two such lovely girls, so fond of one another! I'm fairly sure that John fantasizes about watching."

Veronica giggled. "What was it that Susan said about men having perverted thoughts? It wouldn't surprise me, considering some of the things that Ned wants. The heck of it is, I like doing most of them. I'm afraid that I've discovered that I'm a naughty girl. Hey: not to change the subject, considering how cute Susan is when she blushes, but if you girls weren't attached or worried about Holly or Diana, which of our charming white hunters would you like to be naughty with, and why?"

That led to some revelations amid more giggles, until they tired of the game and the two huddled together drifted off in sleep. Marguerite struggled to keep her eyes open, then jerked awake as something rustled in the grass just beyond the protective thorns.

She sat stock still, listening intently. Yes, there was something there, and it was creeping closer, sensed more than heard. Marguerite reached slowly for the flashlight, and turned the safety of her rifle to the "fire" position. She let the green wool blanket slip from her shoulders and aimed the flashlight at the place where she knew that something moved.

She decided not to wake the others. If nothing was there, no problem. And if she had to shoot, the sound of her shot would rouse her friends soon enough! She tensed, staring into the darkness. Rifle at the ready, Marguerite pressed the switch of the flashlight…

The beam revealed a leopard almost at the edge of the boma. It turned as the light struck it and sawed nastily. The light also reflected off of two additional pair of eyes. These turned out to be leopard cubs as Marguerite swung the flashlight.

She elbowed Veronica, who sat up sleepily, but recovered quickly as she saw the beautiful cat pacing back and forth in front of them.

"Oh, how beautiful. Look at the cubs. Susan, look at this!" The jungle princess could hardly believe her eyes.

The women were fascinated, but worried that the mother leopard might attack. Then, the mother cat snarled and made a rough sound that sent her cubs sprinting off, followed by their agile parent.

"Something scared her, and I don't think it was us," whispered Veronica.

As if in answer, a lion roared, followed by another. And the sounds were approaching the boma! Marguerite put two more sticks on the fire, and the three women sat back-to-back, peering into the darkness as a pride of lions arrived, their eyes reflecting the firelight in a haunting, ominous manner.

The first to approach was a big lioness. She came right up to the fence, wincing as a thorn stuck her just below an eye. "_Aroungh_," she complained and turned, switching her tail at the fence. The air trembled when she voiced her discontent.

"The same to you, Halitosis Breath," muttered Marguerite. "No one invited you. If you don't like our place, feel entirely free to leave!"

Susan laughed, but cut it short as another lioness growled menacingly to their rear, watched by Veronica. Susan tried to recall whether the .375 Magnum was loaded with softpoint, expanding bullets or full metal-jacketed "solids." For lion, she wanted softpoints, with enough penetration and which would create a wider wound channel. Solids were just for elephant, rhino, maybe hippo, and occasionally buffalo. You had to be careful not to shoot through one buff and wound another. One's insurance agent tended to frown on that. Life out here was perilous enough without making mistakes of that order...

Susan Wilson had listened raptly to Lord Roxton and her mentor, Finn, as they cautioned her about which guns to use for which animals, and what ammunition was best. Yes, she had loaded softnoses, reading the flat yellow Kynoch box to be sure that she had the right ammo.

"_EEEOUNGH_!" snarled another lioness, trying to butt her head through the fence. Veronica cursed her, and Marguerite warned the blonde not to try sticking this intruder in the nose with a knife.

"Don't worry," replied Mrs. Malone. "I'm not _that_ blonde! But, Marguerite, what are we going to do? This is getting really scary!"

"Me?" demanded Marguerite. "I'm supposed to have an answer? I wanted to go to Provence! Why am I supposed to know what to do in situations like this?"

"Ma'am, you're a Countess. Your husband is an Earl. You're supposed to lead common girls like me and inspire us in times of danger. Otherwise, I might as well be an American." Susan laughed, but couldn't hide her nervousness.

"Well, I'm a South American, married to a real Yank, and I don't know what to do, Susie. But I wouldn't put up with the taxes that you pay if the gentry can't even chase off lions. Why curtsy to people who can't even scare lions?" Veronica laughed.

"Very funny, the pair of you," snapped Marguerite. "They can't get behind us if we sit like this, all three facing out. But I think they're planning something, and they look hungry. Either that zebra wasn't enough, or this is another bunch of cats."

"Ma'am?" asked Susan. "I'm sorry about teasing you. I really do look up to you and Lord Roxton. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"You're forgiven, Susan. Just tell the Earl that I died game if you survive this wretched night and I don't." Marguerite was touched that Susan was so sweet and considerate, one of the finest girls whom she had known. And so naive, compared to Marguerite herself at 23...

Veronica got another stick and added it to the fire, looking out into the shadows. There was a sudden cessation of the usual background noises, and she sensed that something was coming.

Something was: a big lion and he glared at them within their weak stronghold. He padded up to the fence, his deep golden eyes looking like gates into hell as he curled a lip and snarled. The faint breeze blew his essence into the boma, and all three women recognized the acrid odor of lion. Marguerite saw scars that had healed on his nose, the legacy of previous fights with other males, for dominance.

"I know he smells the fear in me," admitted Marguerite. "Girls, I'm terrified. I can't hide all of it. Please try to be brave. Susan, watch him! You have the .375. If he comes, hit him low in the chest and try to take out the heart or the big blood vessels and arteries right above it. Vee and I will try to break a shoulder. If he gets over that fence we're doomed!" She cursed inwardly as she heard the shake in her voice.

"Yes, ma'am," said Susan. "And don't shoot for the head. That mane is just hair. There's almost no forehead and the skull is shaped just right for a bullet to glance off. I heard Lord Roxton and Mrs. Challenger discussing that one day with Geoff."

The lion glared balefully at the women and gathered himself for a full roar. When it came, the ground shook and the nerves in the ladies' bodies quivered as their emotions were driven to the breaking point. Such a roar was intimidating in a zoo. Here, it was truly awful, turning courage to water, rattling bones and setting teeth to chattering. Susan glanced at Veronica and saw her turn as white as a snowflake. Lady Roxton was also pale. Susan hated to guess what she must look like. She fought the impulse to run and rolled over the safety of the rifle to the Fire position.

The lion turned and walked away, blending immediately into the inky blackness beyond the fire. He was replaced by two of his wives pacing by, a guttural rumbling indicating their arrogant attitude.

Veronica jumped and almost shot as one of the other lionesses pushed against the fence. It thundered at her and the blood in her veins ran like ice water from off a glacier. The jungle-bred girl shuddered. She heard a pretty female human voice speaking and realized that Susan was reciting the 23rd Psalm.

The lion roared again in the stygian blackness and came in a quick rush. He paused for a second as he gathered his feet to spring over the fence.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies," said Susan and pressed the trigger. The Holland & Holland .375 recoiled into her shoulder socket and sent a jet of tangerine flame into the air as the noise of the shot jarred them like someone had banged a great drum with three frightened women inside it.

The leaping lion howled in pain as Marguerite fired a shot into its breast from below as it reared to clear the boma! Veronica screamed.

The lion slammed to the ground, twitched briefly, and then was still. The lionesses roared and stalked back and forth, slapping their tails against the thin thorn barrier. They sniffed at their dead lord and master, puzzled over what had happened to him.

Susan had stopped reciting the Psalm, but sat ashen-faced until Marguerite reminded her to cycle the bolt on her .375, feeding a fresh cartridge into the chamber. Veronica saw and reloaded her own rifle. She had fired just after Marguerite had, all three bullets having struck home. From what they could see, at least one had penetrated the lion from the chest through the back, breaking the spine.

Marguerite played the flashlight over the animal, making sure that it was dead. Veronica took one of the long sticks that they had gathered for use as torches, and probed the body through the fence. No movement. It was apparently truly dead.

A lioness charged over and slapped at the stick, and Susan fired her rifle near the head of the aggressive beast. The shocked lioness, seared by the muzzle blast and bits of unburned gunpowder, flinched and raced away.

As Susan replaced the two fired cartridges in her rifle's magazine, Marguerite said, "Nice work, Susie. That saw her off. But no more warning shots. We don't have enough ammunition, and instead of running, the next lioness may just press home a charge. From now on, if we have to shoot, let it be to kill. Besides, we can't know where a stray bullet may go. Out here at night, that one probably wound up in a tree or some scrub bush. But with our luck, one will hit some passing native in the night, and the liability might be considerable. Or, we may wound some innocent animal feeding out there on the plains."

"We can't stay here forever," pointed out Veronica. "What if these danged lions aren't gone after it gets to be daytime?"

"Then, we may have to kill another one or two and see if the rest push off," said Marguerite. "Other than that, all I can think of is to make the fire really smoky and see if anyone comes to investigate the column of smoke."

"Oh, Ned told me that Indians in the USA used to do that," remembered Veronica. "They actually used a blanket to interrupt the smoke and send signals." She saw a skeptical look on Susan's face and bridled. "I'm telling the truth. I guess they had to do stuff like that and talk with drum beats, like the tribes at home do. These people didn't have telephones, after all. I guess nobody did, back then."

"There's no way that we're going to stink up a blanket trying to send signals that no one could read," declared Marguerite. "It's going to be smelly enough in here tonight, with that dead lion lying out there. I don't like their odor at the best of times. Remember that one that tried to jump from off a hut onto Finny?" (She referred to an event in a Fic no longer on the Net, "A Lion Comes!" Susan had shot the lioness just as she jumped, saving Finn as the girls searched a village for man-eaters terrorizing the natives.)

"Danged right I remember," said Susan. "That was my first lion, and she scared the blackberry preserves out of me...almost! I was as frightened for Mrs. Challenger as for myself. The men were right: we shouldn't have gone into that village. There were too many places for the lions to hide. We were lucky to have caught that big fellow who ate the chief's wife as he loped off across open ground. Goodness knows, after we hit him the first time, he came for us so fast that I could barely follow him in my sights!" She shuddered.

"Well, the good news is that we killed him, not the reverse. God bless Messrs. Rigby and Holland & Holland. I really must remember to write to both firms and tell them how much I like their rifles. One thing about being the Countess of Avebury is that a letter from me will have more advertising clout than if I was Mrs. John Bleeding Jones, commoner." Marguerite grinned in the firelight and the others smiled, too.

"Mrs. Jones probably wouldn't be here, using their rifles," observed Veronica. "These safaris cost a fortune. If Ned hadn't insisted, I'm not sure I'd have come. But I couldn't miss a chance to see you, Marguerite, and Finnykins and George and John. I really miss you guys now that you live so far away."

"We miss you, too, Jungle Girl," admitted Marguerite. "Not a week goes by without John mentioning you and Ned, and the Challengers mention you when they visit, too. I think Finn still has a case of heroine worship for you. It's rather heartwarming to see Susan here look up to her like she admired you."

"Ma'am, I do admire Mrs. Challenger," said Susan. "She is my heroine, but you two also inspire and encourage me. I feel very privileged to know all of you, and to be here. Well, maybe not _right_here, just now, in this frail thorn boma, with those lions out there."

"We don't have an endless supply of wood," observed Veronica. "If the lions stay after daylight, we can't send up a smoke column for too long, even if we get enough smoke and the wind doesn't disperse it. By the way, Susan thanks. I think highly of you, too. Finn is in good hands, with you helping her. And George is so lucky to have her!"

"He knows, Vee. The professor loves her dearly, and she is lucky to have him, too. I've never seen any two people so close and so considerate of one another. It's quite wonderful to watch. Marguerite teases them for it, but their love is heartwarming. The Professor is both husband and father figure to her, and she takes such wonderful care of him. And they're both wonderful to me. I wish that I could have had parents like them, instead of…" Her voice trailed off and Susan wiped away tears as Veronica pulled her over and hugged her.

"I lost my parents early, too, Susan. But you have us, and we have you. And we're going to make it out of here and back to Angus's farm. Marguerite, I expect you to have a good plan in a few hours!"

"Me?" demanded the Countess. "Hell, I'm an aristocrat. I was planning on you girls doing the work while I took a sunbath, if those lions leave."

Veronica smiled wickedly. "We won't have any coffee until we're rescued, Marguerite. How's that for an incentive?"

"Oh," said Lady Roxton. "If you put it that way, I suppose that I'd better think of something. Finding our way back to coffee is probably too important a task to entrust to two blondes, anyway."

She hefted both water bags. "One is full; the other about a third. We can't pour much on the fire to make it smoky after daylight, and I'd guess that if it gets too smoky, we can't stay in here. We'd better pray that the lions leave."

"Here they come again," said Veronica, reaching for her Rigby.

And that is how their night went: they couldn't sleep, for the lions might push through the thorn, and the boma was barely large enough to keep all three women out of reach if a lioness extended a forearm through a gap in the fence. Susan and Veronica scrunched together under a blanket as the temperature dropped, the Amazonian girl being especially cold, as she wore shorts. She welcomed the warmth of another body, one as lovely as her own.

Marguerite sat alone under the other blanket, blessing whoever had left the coverings in the vehicle. She mulled over what they could take from the car, knowing that their smoke signal might not be seen. She had great faith in Lord Roxton and the others, but was afraid that she had taken a wrong turn, and might be nowhere near the search zone. They might have to walk to safety!

Then she remembered that a neighbor (in terms of this vast land) had an airplane. His name was Tim Something, and he had been aloft and seen her and Diana as the escaped slave girls evaded Khalid's minions. The sight of that airplane had forced Khalid to call off the search for the girls and to leave the area with Veronica, sending his captive African girls and ivory to the coast via his henchmen. They had been dispatched to meet an Arab dhow, but been intercepted by a mounted patrol of the King's African Rifles, led by the handsome Capt. Craig Thorne, D.S.O. and Bar. Veronica and Khalid and his cousin had gone to meet Indian conspirators at the _ducca _(bush store) where the Indians were holding Susan and Holly. All three girls were soon rescued by their friends, although the mental scars that the adventure left still burned in each woman's mind. Marguerite shivered as she recalled the details seared into her brain. She had been very fortunate to seize an Arab's dagger and kill two of their captors. And to unlock Diana's ankle chains and flee into the night...

But Tim should be able to see them from the air again, although they now wore clothes, she reflected wryly. Yes, Angus or one of the others would surely think to telephone or radio Tim and get him aloft. He would surely find them!

She voiced this thought, to the other girls' relief and inspiration.

"Thank God for airplanes," murmured Veronica. She could not know that Tim would not be available!

CHAPTER NINE

But his name certainly came up as the other explorers rose at Angus Hardy's home.

Roxton was up first, then he roused Malone, and they knocked on the doors of everyone else, save for the Blacklaws couple, who were tending to poor van der Meer. That gentleman was still almost comatose much of the time, but his fever was less and the hot flush to his skin was fading as he continued to take the pills provided by Challenger.

At an early breakfast, served as dawn fully engorged the sky with light, Diana remembered Tim Parker and his aircraft, which had first spotted her and Marguerite running from Khalid's slavers on the previous safari.

"He was the best thing, Daddy," she explained to a weary Angus. "If Mr. Parker hadn't flown over when he did and circled back, those slavers would have kept looking until they'd found us. I doubt that they would quit, and they had African trackers who would have puzzled out where we left that stony ground that obscured our tracks. They especially wanted the Countess back: she was worth a small fortune to them, because of the Sultan of Amarrah holding a grudge against her. But even I was going to sell for a lot of money. We had only a couple of water bottles and no food at all, and you recall how Marguerite and I were dressed." She flushed crimson and Stuart took her hand and ran his other hand over her hair tenderly, telling her with his eyes how much he adored her and sympathized with her ordeal.

"We were probably going to be caught, unless maybe we could stay hidden all day. Then, those varlets might have given up and bashed off with Vee and the African girls and all of that ivory. But I was still handcuffed the way that all of you fellows undoubtedly recall, and Marguerite had only the two pistols and knives that she took when we fled. Apart from her knickers, all we wore was our boots and my restraints! Just the one blanket, although that hid us from a troop of baboons. I was literally crying with delight when Mr. Parker flew over and we got his attention! The rotters shot at him, and he knew from that and the way we looked that they must be after us. Marguerite and I lay down and waved our limbs for all we were worth, and he saw us, thank goodness."

She bent to wipe her eyes, and Roxton and the Challengers looked at one another and all suffered with Diana. But the Earl needed to move on to today's business.

"I'm truly sorry for your plight, Diana," he said softly, "and Marguerite and I sometimes talk about it. I can tell you that she speaks very well of you. You held together very bravely for a young girl subjected to what you were. But we must now find Marguerite and the others. Angus, can you ring up Mr. Parker and see if he can help?"

"Surely," answered their host. "But finish eating. He can't take off until it's fully light. In the meantime, we'll eat and load the cars that you're taking with things that may be needed, and you'll be ready to go as soon as I talk to Tim. That'll give him another hour of sleep, too. Won't take him long to get here once he's airborne. He lives barely 40 miles away."

They agreed and ate heartily, although some showed more appetite than others. Ned, in particular, seemed subdued and quiet. Finn went over and hugged him, reminding him of all the times that Veronica had been captured or just had to outrun or otherwise avoid dangerous animals and hostile tribes.

"Vee is smart and strong and thinks fast, Ned. She'll get them all back to us."

He smiled wanly and returned Roxton's thumbs-up sign. "Be sure to load some ginger ale in the car," he asked. "I need something to make me feel effervescent today."

"Finding Veronica will do that, I should think," replied Stuart Hamilton. "I've never lost a client yet, not that any have struck off on their own quite like this. But we'll find 'em, especially once Tim gets up in the clouds!"

But when Hardy rang the Parker home, Tim's groggy wife said that he had gone into Nairobi to make a payment on their mortgage and to try to renegotiate the note on the farm. With luck, he hoped for a lower interest rate. The coffee crop looked good this year, and he thought that the bank would be reasonable.

Mrs. Parker expressed horror and sympathy over the fate of the missing girls, but she had no pilot's license, and they were almost out of aviation fuel.

"Well, thanks, Courtney," said Angus. "Give Tim my best and I'm sure that we'll find the ladies."

Roxton was troubled, and then his face lit up. "We can ring the Governor in Nairobi and have him dispatch a RAF plane or two!"

"Eh?" stammered a startled Angus Hardy. "Good lord, man! The Governor?"

Roxton was resolute. "I am not just some settler here, Angus. I am the Earl of Avebury, a member of the House of Lords, and I sit on the King's Privy Council. I am not going to be daunted by some stuffy colonial official!"

Challenger, who understood Hardy's concern at possibly upsetting the head of the colony, suggested that they search for the women for a few hours, then radio or telephone Government House if they still needed assistance.

"Very well," said Roxton, a bit stiffly. "But if they are not located by 1:30 PM, we head back and make that call."

"Can we please go now?" asked Ned.

"Gimme a minute," said Finn. "I want to scarf up another piece of ham. And I have half a mug of tea left. I can't leave until I finish my tea. It'd be un-British!" She grinned, and even the impatient Ned Malone smiled, despite his anxiety

CHAPTER TEN

The sun had also risen over the sparse thorn boma, and the women looked bleary-eyed as daylight flooded their vista. They had not heard the lions or seen them for the better part of an hour, and were hopeful that they had gone.

They drank more water and made tea, and Veronica had a ginger ale, the bottle being cool from the night's chill. They opened tins of bully beef and were glad to have found them in the chop box in the car. The food that they had brought had been consumed as lunch the previous day. A lone, soggy sandwich had been thrown out before they entered the boma, probably having spoiled in the heat.

Veronica shivered in the cold morning and ate while wrapped in her blanket. Marguerite stepped out of the boma and used her binocular to scan the area, Susan beside her with a rifle. They saw no lions.

They waited until after eight AM to try sending up a column of smoke, knowing that the rescue party couldn't have left until the sun was fully up. Veronica and Susan stretched out on the car seats and napped as Marguerite kept watch and fed the small fire. They had gathered more wood, keeping a wary eye out for predators.

In time, Marguerite almost fell over into the fire, and she woke Veronica to spell her. She needed sleep, badly. The smoke had attracted no attention, and the dead lion smelled even worse as the day warmed. It was very large, with a fine mane, and they regretted that the trophy would be lost as the hair slipped from death and decay. But they couldn't easily skin it by themselves, and the hide would be heavy and bloody. They ruled out eating lion meat, feeling that they could shoot some sort of antelope if they had to stay out another night.

By noon, they gave up on the signal, the breeze often dispersing the column of smoke so much that it was unreliable in attracting rescuers. "They may just think it's a fire built by Africans, anyway," grumbled Veronica.

They extinguished the fire thoroughly and gathered what they could carry. Veronica had sharpened the two pangas, like South American machetes, and they had leather sheaths for them. They took both water bags; although one was no more than a quarter full now. And they took the blankets, for who knew if they would need them again?

Susan photographed them beside the little boma with the dead lion, whose carcass was now swelling. "Home Sweet Home," joked Marguerite and the women gave the little thorn structure a farewell look before walking off in what they hoped was the right direction. They knew where the Sun had risen, so that direction was east. They tried to keep a straight course, but landmarks were few.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The rescue party lost the tracks of Marguerite's car on hard ground and had to cast around for them. No luck, until Ned suggested going back to the fork in the road where the women had in fact veered in the wrong direction.

Roxton initially demurred, demanding that they continue on in the path where the missing explorers should have gone. Diana concurred that her father's land ended near where the now obscure fork in the road occurred. But Stuart and Finn joined the male Challenger in thinking that if the women had erred and gone left, that was the easiest explanation as to what had become of them.

"Have you ever heard of Occam's Razor, John?" inquired the ginger-bearded scientist. "It's a theory that the correct solution to most problems is the simplest one. I think it may apply in this case."

Roxton thought and admitted that searching the "impossible" route might be worthwhile. "And I have heard of Occam's perishing theory, George. Actually, I have a Bowie knife named Occam's Razor. It was among my favorite knives on the Plateau. You've seen it many times and heard me call it that. Pet name, of course. The maker was Wostenholm, as with a number of my favorite knives."

"Want a ginger ale, Johnny?" asked Finn, to soothe his ire. She didn't want her mate and her best pal getting into a male ego squabble when they were all on edge.

"Got just plain ale, Finny?" the nobleman smiled. "I'll leave the other to Ned. Just a beer will do thanks."

"In fact, we have got something called Samuel Smith's Old Pale Ale," said Challenger. "I saw Diana put some in the water bag with the ice.  
I've had that at home. A very superior ale. I'll have one, too, please, Darling."

Finn produced the ale and two of the Canada Dry ginger variety for herself and Ned. While she dug into the bag for the refreshments, Stuart and Diana got out and scanned the horizon and whatever else they could see through binoculars.

"You know, that idea of the missed turn is growing on me the more I think about it," admitted the Earl.

"I don't have all of the great thoughts," joked the professor. "I just have them before most other people."

Finn teased him about his ego, and they all relaxed and smiled. When they got underway again, they felt better about finding the women.

"If they went the other way, they should have been able to see the house, and we had lights on almost all last night." Diana Hamilton was sure that if the lost women had simply gone astray, the turnoff was the logical answer. If that was not why they were gone, the answer might be much grimmer. She hoped that a rhino hadn't caught the car and tipped it over with tragic results. An elephant might also have interfered with the adventurers' plans. She hoped that they would be found, safe and sound. This was partly because Diana was a decent girl and genuinely liked the three missing persons. But if something awful had befallen them, it would reflect very poorly on her and Stuart and the Blacklaws couple. Not that the safari operators had had the slightest idea that three clients might take off on ther own!

Ahead and well off to the right of their friends, Marguerite, Susan, and Veronica trudged along, stopping occasionally to rest in the shade of some convenient tree, conserving their water as best they could.

It was at one of these stops when they saw a flock of guinea fowl strutting along, pecking at whatever the grouse-like birds pecked at.

Marguerite hushed her friends, sat on a log, and slid her rifle across her lap. "I'm going to shoot at that rock just ahead of them as they pass," she whispered. "I once did that to some pheasant-like birds on the Plateau and the flying rock shards and bullet fragments killed a couple. I rather fancy roasting them for our dinner." (A direct hit from a .275 rifle would leave little or no edible meat on a bird.)

But even as she brought her telescopic sight to bear on the big chunk of sandstone, she saw a reddish-brown shape launch itself at the grouse and heard them take off in frenzy, cackling an alarm call.

Susan and Veronica sat up abruptly, Susan aiming her binocular at the flurry in the red dust. "Caracal," she whispered as she saw the lithe cat jump into the air and strike down two big grouse. The speed and grace of the forty-pound cat was astonishing, and even the often jaded Veronica sat spellbound as the quick feline hunter finished off the injured birds.

"Well, there went lunch," muttered Marguerite. "I've half a mind to blast that dratted cat. It may be the one that's been getting into Angus's barn and eating his lambs, anyway."

But the other women pleaded with her to spare the beautiful cat as it began feeding on one of the grouse. Veronica focused her glass carefully on its face as it fed and marveled at the long black tufts atop each ear, and the beautiful rufous color of the fur.

The Countess held her fire, hoping to find more guinea fowl or a small antelope. Soon, the need for groceries would trump any sentimental desire to admire the wildlife.

They approached a wooded area, and held a council of war. Marguerite spoke first. "If you girls walk in and see if you can stir up a bushbuck, maybe you can spook it and drive it to me. I'll wait ahead and shoot it as it runs by. But kill it if you can. We just need to be very sure where we'll all be. The last thing we need is to shoot one another!"

Susan found some tracks. "What animal left these? Bongo, maybe? Geoff said they prefer country like this, but we're too low. They're mainly up in the Aberdare mountains."

"I can't tell a deer track at home from a kudu or a bushbuck track," declared Marguerite, and Veronica shook her head.

"It's some sort of ruminant. I can tell that it's an antelope, not buffalo. Too small. And I don't think it's a warthog. I've seen wild pig tracks on the Plateau. Look, I don't like losing sight of one another. Let's walk in abreast, about five feet apart. We need to look for game, but watch low branches for leopards, and don't forget to search the ground for snakes."

They agreed to that plan and shared the water bag before entering the trees.

They had barely begun to move forward when a car horn sounded behind them. They turned and stared, and Veronica sat and focused her binocular.

"That's not our crew," she announced. "I hope that whoever it is is friendly. Get ready to run for the forest if they look suspicious as they get near."

As the car approached, followed by a truck, Veronica saw who was in the vehicles. "That's the District Commissioner here, Sir John Musgrave, and that's Capt. Craig Thorne of the King's African Rifles with him. I can't see who's in the back seat, but I think it's a woman. The truck has KAR soldiers, not native police."

"Oh, joy!" exclaimed the Countess, and Susan smiled broadly. They all knew Sir John and Capt. Thorne from their kidnapping one year and the uprising by the insane witch doctor detailed in the story, _A_ _Lion Comes!_the next. That had taken place earlier on this very safari!

The lost women shouldered their rifles, binoculars, and the bag with their meager possessions from the damaged car. They waved, and Susan wondered if the figure in the back seat was Lady Musgrave.

In fact, there were two in the second seat. One was indeed Amanda Musgrave, the other being Lt. Giles Featherstonehaugh, Thorne's executive officer. Susan recalled how amused they had been to learn that his long name was pronounced as, "Fanshaw."

The vehicles pulled up by the women and swung off to the side before stopping.

Marguerite held up a thumb, as if hitch-hiking. "Hallo, the car! Might three reasonably chaste and lovely women bum a ride from you fellows without feeling too obligated?"

She heard Amanda's delighted laughter. "Lady Roxton, whatever are you and your friends doing out here in the middle of nowhere? I say, are you thirsty?"

"I could certainly drink, if you can pour some water in our bag." Veronica brandished the water bag. "And if you have anything extra for lunch, we haven't eaten, so feel free to invite us. But why are you here? Our car broke down after we hit a rock and knocked a hole in the oil pan."

"What a delightful surprise," said Sir John, fanning his face with his hat. "Where are your companions? I trust that nothing bad has happened to them?"

That story told, the Musgraves made room in their vehicle for the three women and the party moved off a short distance and made lunch. The decision to eat had conflicted with the need to get back to Hardy's place and sleep and let their friends and spouses know that they were safe. So it was decided to have a quick meal, and then move on. Marguerite summed it up: "John will be happier to see me if I don't faint from hunger in front of him."

That brought the expected chuckles, and sandwiches were quickly made, and tea brewed. Offered a beer, Veronica declined. "I think it would put me to sleep. I'm barely keeping my eyes open. Marguerite, tell them about the lions. By the way, how did you guys find us?"

"We were en route to Hardy's, and found your car. Saw some smoke coming from near there earlier and went to investigate, as natives aren't supposed to be there. We found the car, recognized the license number as being one of Hamilton's vehicles, and saw your improvised boma and the dead lion, which vultures and jackals were feeding on. We must have just beaten the hyenas to the body. I'm sure they've arrived by now. Then, we followed the direction of your tracks, having determined that they were left by three women. One of Craig's corporals used to work for a safari company, and is a remarkable tracker. We brought him on this trip, as we're hunting a couple of the dead witch doctor's minions who've eluded us so far. One is trying to take his place and stir up another native uprising. Fortunately, some Kikuyu loyalists told us, and we'll get the blighter. But how have you been? Good safari? I mean, after the witch doctor episode? I daresay that we all had quite enough excitement from that!" Musgrave accepted tea from his wife and looked expectantly at Lady Roxton.

While bringing one another up to date, Marguerite mentioned Hendrik van der Meer's mauling by the lion. The newcomers were sympathetic, and the DC promised to have him transported to hospital in Nairobi, if he was fit enough to be moved.

As they were preparing to leave for the Hardy place, they saw their friends' cars approaching and waved enthusiastically.

Roxton seized Marguerite and hugged her openly. "I trust that you have a good explanation for this, Madam? You drove me half mad with worry!"

Finn and her mate both hugged Susan, who had feared that her absence might have upset them. Instead, they expressed delight at her being safe. Veronica and Ned were no less expressive on being reunited. The love between these people was evident, and Amanda Musgrave was touched by their closeness.

They adjourned soon and headed for the farm, where Hardy was greatly relieved to see them. Musgrave visited with van der Meer, and promised to send word to his African headman. But Hardy had sent runners to inform that fellow, and van der Meer was better. He could sit up now for awhile, and had begun to eat better. The fever was almost gone.

"I was half out of my head, Mynheer," he told Musgrave. "But I recall this fine gentleman (he gestured to Challenger) taking splendid care of me. And his lovely wife and he arranged for me to have transfusions. I must thank Lord Roxton and my friend Stuart for donating blood. Without their aid, I fear that I would not have survived. And to see Mrs. Challenger gave me inspiration to live, although I thought for a time that I was seeing an angel!"

"I know how you feel," said Challenger. "I once received a transfusion from Finn when I was quite ill from drinking one of my experiments that didn't turn out well. I owe her my life. I decided to marry her, in case I might need another transfusion some day!"

That produced a jab in the ribs from his grinning spouse and chuckles from the others.

"Of course, this has been a mixed blessing," admitted van der Meer. "This means that I now have some English blood in my veins. Still, I am glad to have it, the alternative being even less desirable."

"You perishing rogue," laughed Hardy. "Next thing you know, you'll be asking for tea instead of coffee!"

Marguerite walked in with Lord Roxton, and van der Meer's face lit up. _"Dankie, mevrouw_! Yours was the first blessed face that I saw when those vultures were waiting to eat me. And I must add, Mrs. Malone has also been a vision of loveliness as she nursed me. How could I not get well, having such technical expertise from the professor and the visits from these stunning ladies? No man has ever had prettier nurses, or those who could have cared more."

Holly entered to announce that she had baked cookies and invited all to come eat them, with tea. She had brought some on a tray for the injured man, and Challenger said that two or three wouldn't hurt him, provided that he took it easy and remembered to eat dinner, too.

They adjourned to the table to continue their discussion, save for Stuart and Diana remaining with Hendrik. He seemed much cheered to have their company. And the others had news to exchange, Craig Thorne announcing his engagement to a local girl, whom the others had met while under seige at the DC's boma during the native rising barely two months before.

Craig said that he was resigning at the end of the month to become a gentleman farmer, marrying one of two sisters who had a fine estate that needed a man to run it.

He was congratulated, most having met the lady and liked her.

The most urgent need now was to let the formerly missing women sleep, and to recover the car that they had damaged. Fortunately, Stuart had a spare oil pan in his supply truck, as such accidents were fairly likely while driving off-road in this wilderness.

But the day was now approaching dusk, which meant that recovering the vehicle had to be put off until the next day, when daylight would provide enough illumination to lift the car on a winch or jack and replace the damaged pan.

Roxton offered to pay for the car if it was further damaged by animals before it could be repaired. This generous offer was gratefully accepted by Stuart and Diana, who had joined the others when van der Meer drifted off to sleep.

"But we still need to get it back here and fix anything wrong. If nothing else, Angus can use a spare car around the homestead."  
The Hamiltons promised to fix the car if possible, rather than to impose on the Roxtons.

But Lord Roxton told them that he had intended to offer a new car as a tip to them for a hunt that had been well run. "I noticed that the odometer shows high mileage, so you'd better take me up on the offer, Stuart. I can easily afford to be generous, and you can't afford to operate any vehicle that might break down out in the bush."

So it was that the Hamiltons accepted both the provision of a new car and help in repairing or towing the old.

When the slumbering ladies were wakened for dinner, Marguerite suggested that her husband be generous in another area. "I found out that Susan took out a bank loan to pay for her .375 Magnum. I wondered how a girl of her resources could afford a Holland & Holland rifle. I supposed that George and Finn had bought it for her. But Finn said that Susan was too proud to accept their charity after you bought her Rigby .275, John. She did pay for her .303 from her savings, but it was an off-the-rack rifle, not a custom one made to order and fitted to her, with fancy wood and engraving. But she means the .375 to be a prime item for other hunting trips here and in India, and to become an heirloom in her family when she marries. As will her other guns and binocular and the like. But she has no business making those payments on her salary. It must be a strain on her resources."

"Now," she continued, "that .375 saved our lives when she used it to shoot the big lion that was coming over the fence at us. Had she not hit him in the heart with that powerful rifle, I probably wouldn't be talking to you right now, dear husband. So, you are going to convince Susie that you will pay off that rifle for her, with our compliments. Or, I'll write the damned bankers a check on my own. Their interest rate is probably userous, anyway."

Roxton asked if this might offend the Challengers in some way, but Finn overheard as she and George went past the Roxtons on the way to the dining room. The Challengers endorsed the plan, but offered to pay half of the cost.

"Susan has a birthday coming up soon," pointed out Finn. "The rifle can be our gift to her, with Johnny paying half. Does that suit everyone? I'll tell Susan tonight, if we're agreed."

"We're agreed," said the Earl, "but Marguerite and I want to be with you when we tell her. I quite like that girl, and she saved Marguerite and Veronica as well as herself. She deserves a reward."

The only remaining matter before leaving for Nairobi was to kill the leopard that Marguerite wanted, and Geoff and Holly said that they had selected a suitable bait tree and had already hoisted the carcass of a wildebeest into it to await it attracting a cat. "Probably, tomorrow evening, you can collect Old Spots, Countess." Geoff seemed assured of that, knowing that several big leopards were in the affected area of the Hardy farm.

"Fine," beamed a happy Marguerite. "But one of you fellows is driving. I'm not getting lost here any more."

That brought a round of laughter, then the serving boys came in with dinner, and all enjoyed a happy repast and the company of friends too seldom seen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The following day, the last on which they would hunt, dawned clear and fairly cool. By the time the sun was well up, Lord Roxton, Susan Wilson, the Challengers and the Malones were off with the Blacklaws couple. The Hamiltons needed to recover their car and took Craig Thorne and a few of his native troops to help. Marguerite stayed at the house with Amanda Musgrave, sewing and talking, catching up on their friendship. Angus Hardy ran his farm as usual, and Sir John Musgrave took the opportunity to catch up on some official paperwork and to look in on van der Meer, as needed. He also telephoned a hospital in Nairobi, to confer on whether the injured man should be taken there or might recover where he was. Hardy made it clear that van der Meer was welcome to stay until well, shrugging off any suggestion that he was being imposed upon. Diana was very proud of her father and told him so, kissing him before she and Stuart left to get the damaged car.

"Good chap, that Stuart Hamilton," Hardy told Musgrave. "My favorite son-in-law! Diana married well. You know, Sir John, now that the Hamiltons have bought the adjoining spread, we have one of the largest estates in all of Kenya. I daresay that lad will run it well after I have to retire. Life has never looked so good."

Musgrave was puzzled. "I thought that you had just the one daughter, Angus. Is there more than one son-in-law?"

"No," laughed the gentleman farmer. "But Stuart is still my favorite one."

Musgrave groaned. "That, my dear fellow, will cost you another cup of tea, if you please. By the by, the governor has authorized Crown payments to you for damage caused by the witch doctor's raid here. You should be getting a cheque soon. Just give me the figures for the damage caused, and I'll endorse it and see that His Excellency gets the forms on my trip into Nairobi."

That, of course, made Hardy's day even brighter. But others would soon encounter genuine peril on their last official day to hunt!

The excitement began, really, when Veronica asked Geoff where she could hunt on her own with a bow in some forested country. "I want to arrow a bushbuck or something similar, just to see if I can do that here as well as I do at home."

Blacklaws was dubious. "If you go into that thick cover, sort of refined jungle, you may stumble across a leopard or something else nasty. If you insist on doing that sort of thing, Holly and I need your husband's permission and a statement of waiver, noting that I advised against it. I might still lose my license, but that would give me a fighting chance to keep it. And Sir John knows your nature..."

Finn looked curiously at her oldest really close friend. "Vee, why are you in that raincoat? It isn't even overcast. Aren't you like, totally hot? I mean in the weather sense. Everyone knows what a hot chick you are, of course." She stuck out her tongue at a grinning Mrs. Malone.

Veronica stripped off the tan coat and showed herself in her costume so familiar to her "family" on the Amazonian Plateau and to readers of Finn's books. Her outfit was the one that she had adopted after the first year or so that she had known the others, with a fawn colored leather crop top thatr evealed most of her body from below the breasts to the wraparound loincloth, with soft suede boots that had soles like Indian moccasins, but with tougher, thicker leather. One of her knives, made for her by Lord Roxton, was strapped to her right boot and she had the Remington RH-36 knife with a stag antler handle and aluminum butt cap on her belt. This knife was a gift from Ned, and the one that she had employed in the thorn boma, to stab the aggressive hyena in the nose. Her old turquoise and bone armband was in place, and she wore a necklace of jaguar canine teeth on a leather string. Her ears were adorned with erotic gold loop earrings like those favored by Finn. She was beautiful, and Blacklaws pulled the car over while everyone looked at the blonde jungle girl.

Susan was first to break the silence. "Oh, Vee! How lovely and daring! I want to take pictures." And she lunged for her 35mm Leica.

The men looked stunned and exchanged uneasy glances. And Holly gave Geoff a disapproving stare, as if she wasn't too thrilled at the sight of him gawking at Veronica with his mouth hanging open

"What?" asked Veronica, enjoying the reaction, especially that of the men. "You all saw me in this and even briefer outfits when Morrighan got me and Finn and Felicity (Marguerite's half-sister-in-law) to dance in her ceremonies to cancel out the witch doctor's curses. The black guys looked like they took that stuff seriously. Heck, even I got a thrill out of it and felt a certain something in the air." (_A Lion Comes _told that tale, but is not at present on the Net.)

Finn, both amused and embarrassed, tugged at Holly's sleeve. "When we get home tonight, Vee and I will make you an outfit like this and one from leopard skin. You'll look sensational in them, won't she, Geoff? Guys?" She looked earnestly at her husband and at Roxton for support.

"Oh, to be sure," confirmed Challenger. "Finn had such outfits made for her by Veronica before we left the Pateau. Sometimes, she wears them at home in England, on the servants' nights off."

"Yeah, I do, but Holly, those things should come with a warning. We gave the servants a week off once and I got a kick out of dressing that way for awhile. I felt really sexy, like I was a jungle princess. I think those outfits contributed substantially to my second pregnancy." She blushed and giggled a little, and Challenger thought how truly lovely she was. Her complexion and figure were so nearly what they had been when they met six years ago, and she seemed 22 again. He felt a warm glow within him and pulled her over and put an arm around her. When Finn turned to look enquiringly at him, he kissed her lips before she spoke. She flushed even more and laid her head on his shoulder, looking at him with those big blue eyes in which he so often drowned. He took her hand and she squeezed back warmly and snuggled closer.

Veronica rolled her eyes. "Marguerite is only exaggerating a little," she complained. "You Challengers darned nearly do cuddle and smooch every hour. Or, at least a time or two a day. But look, Holly, I'm not wearing this to get the guys' attention. It's what I wear most days at home and I really want to prove that I can hunt here like I do there."

Geoff was stunned. "I read those books of Finn's, but thought that she glamorized them a bit to appeal to readers. You actually dress like that routinely in your treehouse? Ned, how do you manage to get anything done, other than staring appreciatively at your wife? You must have nerves of steel!"

Challenger chuckled. "That week that we gave the servants off, Finn came into my study one afternoon in that Veronica outfit, but with sandals instead of boots. I was working on a new aerilon design for an aircraft company, and she distracted me so badly that I didn't get diddly done for three days. It was quite hard enough to get my mind back on work after she went back to normal clothes. Those sundresses that she favors in summer also tend to rattle the male mind! I expect that Ned has become used to it, but I feel sure that a main reason why he fell for Veronica so soon was her manner of dress. Mind you, the climate there is conducive to that, and many other women in various tribes on the Plateau wear no more."

Ned decided to get matters back on track. "I do have to concentrate a lot on getting other things done," he admitted. "I'm just a man, and Veronica is a goddess! But I got sort of used to her outfits. Look: she's careful and fast and knows how to use that bow. I say, lets' let her have a couple or three hours to wander around in there and find a game trail, and see if she kills supper for us. We can go shoot something on the plains far enough away that we don't interfere with her."

Veronica's face lit up as if Susan had just fired a flashbulb into it. "Oh, Neddy, that's so sweet! You were the main reason why I was afraid that I'd have trouble doing this. I love you so much!" And she sat on his lap and kissed him enthusiastically, to Ned's deep embarrassment...and joy! When she pulled back and beamed happily at him, Ned managed to ask, "You mean that if I objected, you'd give up this dangerous idea?"

Veronica cast her eyes down and said softly, "Ned, you're my husband. I know now what that means in the world today, and it's the same with most tribes on the Plateau. I was raised largely as a Zanga girl. I'm just glad that you don't want a harem of submissive wives, like their more important men keep. Remember, I left the Amazons! I don't see men the way they do. You're my husband! If you forbid me to go, I won't. Marguerite told me once after she agreed to marry John that a ship can have only one captain, and that she was happiest if it's the man. You're my man, and I - usually - obey you, unless there's a really good reason not to. Think about it: don't I? I even feel a little happy about that, which is probably why we fight so little compared to many couples out here off of the Plateau. Right?"

Ned stammered, "Right, Honey. I just don't think much about it. Maybe because I love you so much that it doesn't often occur to me to order you not to do things. You've got a really good head on you, not just a pretty one." He kept silent about it, but knew that Veronica was strong-willed, and if she set her mind to it, would usually prevail if she felt that she was right. But it was true that she had been trying to make Ned feel like her hero and the lord of their Treehouse. He appreciated that, deeply.

"But when you do tell me to do or not do something, don't I normally mind you? Don't I usually just anticipate your wishes and fulfill them?" Veronica gazed intently into Ned's eyes.

He reached over and stroked her golden hair. "Yeah, Baby, you do. I think I'm as happy being married as George is. If that's possible! And if this means that much to you, go hunt with your bow. But do me a favor and wear your .38. At least, you can kill snakes at a distance with it and can signal us if you have to. Okay?"

Veronica held his face in her hands and rubbed noses with him. "Yes, Ned. That actually makes sense, although a gun around my waist is just starting to feel normal. Maybe I should take off these earrings, though. They might catch on something in the trees if I have to climb one."

Ned toyed with her ear lobes, giving her a mischievous look. "Take them off if you really think it's a good idea. But if you can, leave them on. I like thinking of the way that you look in them."

She chuckled throatily. "Well, if my guy wants me in them, I'll wear them. It'll keep your mind on me."

He pulled her over for another kiss and informed her, "Honey, I can't think of many times when my mind _isn't_ on you. You make me a very happy fellow."

Roxton cleared his throat, a bit more loudly than necessary. "Well, if Veronica is really going hunting in there with her bow, we'd better have lunch and see her off. It's not getting any earlier. And we need to be home fairly soon, so that Marguerite and Geoff can hunt her leopard on that bait tree tonight."

And so they prepared a simple meal that was nevetheless delicious. But no one drank any alcohol, for they needed to be alert for whatever came on this last official day of their safari.

Holly noticed how close the Malones stood to one another and the way they looked at each other, with Veronica sometimes blushing shyly, although Holly knew how competent Vee was in the jungle. She decided to ask Geoff if he'd like to see her in private in outfits like Veronica's. Somehow, she was pretty sure that he would heartily endorse the idea. Men were so predictable in some ways. But it would be fun to see his face as she posed for him in that limited attire, like something that a girl would wear in a Tarzan movie, or less. But she wasn't about to pose in that for pictures in Finn's next book. Some things shouldn't be for the public to gawk at, even if it helped to sell naughty books!

They dropped Veronica off at the edge of a large tract of thick forest that extended for a considerable distance, and was one of the largest such areas for miles around.

Roxton passed her a compass and said, "Use this to set a course back here, and use that tall termite hill over there in the open for a landmark. Take a canteen, too, and look for us back here in three hours. Got your watch on, I see. Take care, and remember this isn't the Plateau. Some of the animals are different."

Veronica smiled. "Thanks, John. But I think I can handle a leopard if I can kill a jaguar, which is usually bigger. Not that I'd usually hunt a jaguar with a bow."

"Vee, please take your rifle," begged Finn. "This place is wonderful and I love it, but you need to use common sense. Genius, may I go with her?"

Her spouse was taken by surprise and stammered a bit, trying to think of the best reply. He wanted Finn with him, but was very fond of Veronica, whom he saw as almost a daughter. He knew that Finn had learned to hunt very well, usually beside Roxton, who had taught her how to stalk carefully and to avoid most dangers. And Finn was a superb shot with rifle, shotgun, or handgun. Unless the girls got to talking and got careless, Veronica would be safer with Finn by her side.

Veronica saved him. "It's all right, George. Don't answer. Finn, I want to do this alone, to prove to myself and to you guys that I can. Just save me a snack for when you see me again." And she waved goodbye as she entered the jungle, already trying to decide which bird calls and other noises might mean something that could affect her safety or lead her to game.

Veronica strung her bow and entered the forest. It was not the same tropical jungle that she knew, although it had similarities.  
The bird and animal calls differed, and the trees weren't the same. In places, the trees were more widely spaced, and she was glad that there were no dinosaurs here, where she might not be able to get up a tree in time if one pursued her. But many areas were dense jungle, with ferns and creeper vines like in the Tarzan books and films.

Of course, if it saw her in time, or smelled her, a Tyannosaur like those on the Plateau could reach up and pluck her off of a tree or push it over. She knew that elephants also pushed trees over, but getting up one would provide safety from a Cape buffalo or rhino.

She worried about leopards and kept a keen watch on low- hanging branches. And she wondered about Giant Forest Hogs, which might be here. They were bigger than the warthogs of the plains, and were reputed to be vicious.

What she wanted was a bushbuck or a duiker that she could carry out or easily lead her friends to. One of 60 pounds or less would be an ample meal for them that night, although finding one and killing it with an arrow was more of a challenge than stalking and shooting game on the open savannah.

She sat on a rock after checking that no snakes or scoprions were around it, and drank from her canteen. She drew her Smith & Wesson .38 revolver and swung the cylinder out to the left, checking that all six chambers were loaded. Closing the cylinder, she holstered the gun, grateful to own firearms now.

Veronica hoped that she could use the compass well enough to be effective. Here, the cover was too thick to have many landmarks, and she would have to try to follow a trail by distinguishing the moss on some trees and the height of others. It would be easy to get lost in here, she thought, and trembled. Maybe she should have let Finn come, or Roxton. She smiled, thinking how much both meant to her. And dear, dear Ned, who had grown so much more confident and worldly since she had first known him! He had returned from his journey of discovery more mature, more in tune with the world and what he wanted from it. He wasn't tall, but he was now a fully masculine figure to her, and she loved hm so much that it scared her at times.

She felt a surge of emotion sweep though her as she remembered the first time he had told her that he loved her and that he meant to make her his. She glanced at rhe ring on her left hand that he had given her from his portion of the treasure that they had taken from Xochilenque. Veronica loved that ring and what it symbolized far beyond the actual value, which Marguerite had assured her was considerable. Not only was it gold with an emerald stone; it was an authentic relic of the Aztec empire, an archaeological treasure.

She rose and looked for a game trail along which she could hide and try to make a kill in the time that she had. And she had to keep the direction of the light breeze in mind. It would do no good to hide where the air currents would carry her scent to approaching animals. She hadn't applied much of the citrus-scented cologne that Challenger made for her and Finn, knowing that she would attempt to take quarry in this setting.

Finally, she found a stream and set up an ambush in a clump of ferns that would let her lie low and see what was coming down a trail that would lead animals within ten feet of her. She drew an arrow from her quiver, nocked it loosely, and held as still as she could while listening for what might come...

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On the savannah, the others held a brief conference. "We need to shoot something," noted Blacklaws. "With Thorne's troops and the Musgraves here, Angus's meat supply will run short quite soon. Who wants the next shot? Want any particular animal for your walls at home?"

Ned spoke first. "What's easiest that tastes good? Impala? I want to make a quick kill and get back here and wait for my wife."

Roxton and the Challengers exchanged glances. "Impala is good, Ned. We want to get back soon, too."

Holly remembered that Angus and Diana had mentioned a nearby tract of land that nearly always had game on it. "Impala, Thomson's gazelles, other typical plains game. We could probably pop a Tommy or three. They taste good, and won't take up too much space in tne truck. Remember, Vee may shoot something, too."

Thus, they went looking for meat, planning to enjoy the hunt, but mindful that Veronica would need to be recovered in a few hours, and that Marguerite and Geoff needed to be in the leopard blind well before dusk.

Veronica huddled near the ground, freezing motionless as she heard the foliage rustling as some animal wandered down the path. She drew her bowstring back slightly, just enough to put tension on it in case she wanted to rise and take a shot at whatever passed below her vantage point amid the rocks and ferns.

But she relaxed as she realized that what was coming was a water monitor, a five-foot lizard, probably going down to the nearby stream to catch any small animal it could, or seek birds' eggs or whatever other fare came along. If she held still, it would pass below her, and posed no real danger if she stayed clear of its sharp jaws and the powerful tail, which could deal a painful blow. If one invaded a home at night, or was found in a henhouse, Veronica would kill a monitor, but they seldom attacked grown people in the wild. They were edible, but not what she would normally seek. At times, when food was temporarily short on the Plateau, she and Ned had killed similar big lizards or iguanas, which were less fierce. Indians routinely hunted iguanas, but the toothier reptiles were less popular table fare. She wondered whether iguanas being largely vegetarians made a difference in the flavor of the meat.

She grinned wickedly, thinking of the look on Holly's face if she produced a dead lizard for meat. Holly was funny and sweet, and she loved her as a friend, but her wealthy British childhood here had not prepared her for some dishes that Zanga Indian hunters on the Plateau might relish. In fact, Holly was so used to servants before her marriage to a white hunter that Veronica was mildly surprised to find that she could cook, and quite well.

She had voiced this surprise to Geoff one day, and he had smiled mischievously and winked at her. "Why do you think I married Holly, if not for her superb kitchen skills?"

Holly had gone scarlet, giggled self-conciously, and told Geoff to go see that the other clients had drinks and to tell some hunting tales while she and Veronica enjoyed private girl talk. Veronica sighed softly. She was going to miss her Kenya friends when she and Ned returned to Brazil and the Plateau. But she looked forward to seeing their children once more. Would they have forgotten her and Ned? Surely not, but even the thought caused Veronica's brow to crease with guilt for having been away from home for so long. This was almost the fourth month of their safari, and by the time they had visited with the Challengers and the Roxtons in England and gotten back to the Treehouse, it would have been six months since she had seen her children. She shrugged, consoling herself that this was probably a once in a lifetime opportunity to visit this exotic land and see it with their best friends. Even going to Britain to see the Roxtons and the Challengers was a rare favor to themselves, and had to be balanced against the need to be with their young children during their formative years

She was startled to hear the jeering of a black-and-white Colubus monkey in the branches of the tree above her. It reviled her and was joined by three others. Veronica wondered if they were about to throw anything bad smelling and wholly unsavory at her, as spider monkeys did on the Plateau. She swore that if they did, at least one monkey was going to find out what it looked like to have a new body accessory: an arrow!

Then, another monkey shouted an alarm call, and the troop left, including the hecklers. The forest around her went quiet, and Veronica knew what this meant. A dangerous predator was nearby and looking for prey!

She found out what when she heard the angry snarl of a leopard. It must have been seen as it stalked the monkeys. It emitted just the one angry growl, then all was quiet again.

Veronica felt the hair rise on her neck, just like in a scary mystery novel! The pores on her arms seemed to tingle, too, and she knew that she was close to possible death. Knowing that an arrow wouldn't drop an angry big cat in its tracks, she laid the bow down quietly, and eased the Smith & Wesson .38 Special from its rich brown leather holster. The flap of the holster was secured by a strap and brass stud, not by a snap, so she performed this maneuver almost silently.

Holding the revolver, she debated whether to cock the hammer for a more precise aim if the cat charged. But that was less safe, if she had to sit for any length of time, and she hadn't seen it yet. She might not. And the cocked hammer would let the gun fire with a relatively light, short pull of the trigger. She decided to keep her finger on the trigger and pull it all the way through, for a double-action first shot. If she had time, she could steady the gun with two hands and hit her mark almost as well at short ranges as if she had cocked the hammer for the shorter, more refined trigger pull used by target shooters. She had gotten rather good with the .38, coached by her friends, especially Lord Roxton, Marguerite, and Finn. Marguerite and Finn had once amused her (and themselves) by lighting candles and shooting them out with normal ammunition at 15 long paces, on the Roxtons' estate. This smacked of a circus stunt, but with careful teaching and practice, Veronica was able to do it more often than not. The candles had varied in thickness from a half-inch to an inch. Marguerite had told her seriously that this was not only fun but fine practice for shooting a man's eye out or hitting a snake in the head with a bullet before it could strike one of their number.

Roxton had made Veronica a set of professional-type throwing knives and she had learned to use them so well that she could usually impale a grapefruit at 15 feet, sometimes more. Hitting an enemy in the thorax was easy by comparison, although Roxton had warned that the rib cage would often deflect a blade that didn't strike just right.

"Even with the knife in your hand, pay attention to how you use it," he had cautioned. "And don't practice with your usual belt knives. A blade that's tempered hard enough to take and hold a good edge may break at the tip if you throw it often at a wooden wall or something similar. Even with the relatively softer throwing knives, practice by throwing them at a target on a straw bale. Same for archery; put your arrow into a straw bale. Throwing a good knife at a wooden wall repeatedly may even loosen the guard, in time. I insist on having my custom knives and those that I make secured by silver-soldering the guard in place, and the handle slabs on full-tang models are fastened with metal pins as well as the pommel, when there is one."

An amused Veronica had pointed out that the Amazon knives and the ones used by others of the more evolved tribes on her native Plateau were similarly made, although the steel blades weren't always as uniform as those of steel made in modern crucibles and heat-treated by master smiths in Sheffield or London. Roxton had admitted that the best American and German knives were also superior products, the city of Solingen in the Ruhr being as famous for cutlery as was Sheffield.

Veronica remembered this now, wondering if she should holster the revolver and draw one of her knives. No. This wasn't a Tarzan movie, and stabbing a leopard to death, although possible, was best avoided. The leopard might die, but would probably so badly mangle the human killing it that he or she might die, too, or soon after, of infection. The teeth and claws of predators carried nasty bacteria and other pathogens that usually killed those mauled by big cats or varanid lizards like the big Nile monitor that she had seen earlier. Hendrik van der Meer had been very fortunate that Prof. Challenger and his miracle drugs had been at hand when the lion had ravaged him. Even so, he had nearly died before recovery began in earnest.

The jungle girl listened so intently that she felt that the minute hairs inside her ears must be quivering, but heard no leopard. After ten minutes, she holstered the .38 and stood, nocking an arrow to her bowstring. The cat had probably left right after the monkeys reported its presence. But Veronica decided to move elsewhere and try another game trail to kill a bushbuck or a duiker. If she could stay on a tree limb and out of reach of the adult pigs, she would also try for a young bush pig. She had used this technique when hunting peccaries (javelina) at home, and the pork from the African pigs was better. In fact, the peccaries weren't even true pigs, although similar in appearance.

She heard a slithering sound from a tree just 20 feet to her right front, and rustling leaves at the base of the tree. Then, a large leopard, probably 140 pounds weight, stepped out from behind the tree and gave her a baleful look. Veronica lifted the bow. Now, there was no time to draw the handgun again or reach for the knife on her belt or the one on her boot. A quick arrow would hopefully find the heart of the cat just before it leapt for her, then she'd draw the gun and shove it under the head of the animal as it knocked her over and try to shoot it from under the jaw, angling the 158 grain (weight; 7,000 "grains" weighs a pound) lead bullet into its brain. She shuddered, remembering that Finn had once used a gun identical to her own in that manner to kill a Xingu headhunter who had captured Marguerite and was binding her. The other girls had told Veronica about that experience later. The bullet had exited the man's skull, blowing off a piece of it and exposing the brain. It was not, said Marguerite, a memory that she cared to have before eating or at bedtime. Even the wry, sometimes macabre, Finn had looked solemn as they recounted the tale. But that was how Roxton and Challenger had told the girls to deal with a big animal that had them down. Maybe what had worked with the Indian would now kill the leopard...

"Ungghhh!" sawed the spotted demon of the jungle, and the beautiful young blonde drew her bow a fraction farther more and prepared to loose the arrow. She heard herself howl, "Kreehgah!", like someone in an ape-man novel or a black- and- white jungle movie would shout. She felt a fool, attributing the call to stress and desperation.

The startled leopard looked at her, astonished, and did a back flip, charging into the undergrowth so rapidly that Veronica's eyes could barely register its progress. She felt very glad that it had gone the other way, not for her!

She sat on a fallen log, shaken, watching intently for the leopard, but it seemed to have fled. She breathed slowly and deeply, willing her heart to return to its normal rate.

She decided that the slithering sound must have been the animal's claws on bark as it descended the tree. If it was previously aware of her, it would have been quieter and just ambushed her from the tree limb. It could have probably done so, for leopards are great leapers (as she had seen!) and it could have swarmed across the tree in which it had been and onto a branch right above her within seconds.

Veronica recalled Geoffrey Blacklaws showing her and the other safari clients a baboon skull with two holes in the back. "Leopard," he had explained. "If they can stalk one and get it from behind, they often bite into the head this way and the baboon is soon dinner for it. Baboons and leopards are not cheerful companions. Monkeys, not just baboons, are a favorite meal for the spotted cats."

"Quite so," added Challenger. "There is a skull from a cave in South Africa showing precisely those marks, and the teeth of a leopard skull found in that cave fitted the holes in the skull exactly. The cave was the leopard's den, evidenced by the bones of a number of animals that it had eaten before dying there of unknown causes. Now, the really interesting thing is that the skull wasn't that of a baboon: it was from a more advanced ape that walked upright, judging from the location of the _foramen magnum_, the hole in the skull through which the spine enters. In other words, this animal was a pre-human or primitive human, depending on just what you may feel constitutes a human being."

"Could it crochet and order dresses from Harrod's?" asked Marguerite Roxton, her eyes twinkling at Challenger's expression as she made light of this important discovery.

Veronica snickered at the memory of her British friend's joke and the sometimes too serious professor's reaction when he thought that someone was trivializing Science.

Fortunately, Finn had come to the rescue by looking with wide eyes at her mate and saying, "'Way cool, Genius! Like, how long ago did this ape guy live?"

Challenger had looked frostily at Lady Roxton and replied, "Oh, many years before Harrod's opened its doors, as dreadful a prospect as that may seem to women!"

That had made even Marguerite and their friends laugh, and the tension evaporated as Finn pressed her lover for details. She had been genuinely fascinated, as she often was by nature and other scientific subjects. Marguerite decided that this mentor-student aspect of their relationship was one of the reasons why the Challengers were so close. And, no doubt, the intensely interested, often admiring, looks from Finn made her husband feel ten feet tall! Men should like that, reflected a grinning Veronica, who knew well how to flatter the male of her species and the desirable effect that this usually had when she wanted something from Ned. But with Finn, that look on her face was usuallly real. She truly did believe that George was the greatest scientist of all time, or very nearly so, and often pressed him to entertain her with such narratives. And, in fact, his knowledge also impressed Veronica, if she was less openly adoring than was her near "little sister".

Challenger had continued with his tale, commenting that the dead ape, something that he called an Australopithecine, had been consumed by the leopard several million years before their time. "Eventually, we will have more precise means of dating fossils," he said with assurance. "In fact, I am experimenting with a primitive radio-carbon technique that may yield useful results in this field!"

"Good luck," said Susan Wilson wistfully. "You want to 'date' fossils. I'd be happy to date men. Maybe I'll get my hooks into one yet."

Holly had laughed. "You will, Susan. With your looks and your basic niceness, you'll probably have plenty of suitors soon after you get back to England."

Veronica smiled now, recalling that conversation by the campfire several weeks previously. (Author's note: Challenger's story of the ancient leopard and its hominid prey is quite true. It has been recounted in several paleoanthropological books.)

Her breathing now almost back to normal, Veronica rose and walked quickly away from the area. If the leopard was stalking her, she could not detect it and she paused often to listen and to sniff the air. But the normal bird and animal calls had resumed, leading her to think that the alarmed cat had gone to seek more familiar prey. She might have been the first white person that it had seen and her shout had certainly amazed and frightened it. Veronica could hardly wait to tell Geoff and Stuart and see what they thought of her adventure. She was pretty sure what Ned Malone would think: that she should have taken him, a rifle, or both!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On the plains, the hunting party scouted for half an hour and found a herd of about 30 Thomson's gazelles. The largest ram was of exceptional trophy quality, and Geoff excitedly told the others that it would probably win a place in, _Rowland Ward's Records of Big Game_, the official book that listed the largest sizes of animals taken by legitimate sport hunters.

"I don't fancy that it'll be a new world's record," he speculated, "but it will be among the top ten or so listed in the next edition. And someone can shoot a couple of others for meat. The old boy may be a trifle tough, but we can give the meat to the Africans. They aren't too particular. Who's shooting?"

The clients all looked at one another and decided to take an antelope each, with Finn shooting at the big ram. Roxton had a number of listings in Ward's, Challenger didn't especially care, and Finn's literary career could use the publicity of being able to say that she had shot a few record book animals. It would look good in her next book, and she felt a surge of excitement, looking at the animal from the shelter of an anthill. Ned declined to shoot, as he could take home only a limited number of trophies, having to transport them back to the Treehouse by balloon after leaving the ship in Manaus.

Ned remained with Holly as the others sneaked off to approach the herd, using what cover they could. They needed to get within a couple of hundred yards to be sure of clean kills, closer if possible. At times, they might have to crawl in the long grass.

Ned asked for a cold ginger ale, and watched his friends through his binocular as the hunt progressed. He was impressed at the stealth that they showed, especially Roxton and Finn, who had been their primary hunting team on the Plateau after Finn had arrived and eventually found that she and John shared some common interests. And he filled the emotional need that she had for a big brother. His hunting tales had appealed to her, stirring her sense of adventure, and she soon saw him as a heroic figure. She still did, and if Marguerite had not known them both so well, she would have been very leery of them spending so much time together and having many of the same enthusiasms. But she knew that Finn all but worshipped Challenger and was her own best friend, especially now that she could see Veronica so seldom, the couples living an ocean apart! So, the companionship between Finn and her husband troubled Lady Roxton less than she had once thought it might...

Ned chatted amiably with Holly Blacklaws, but she noticed that he kept looking at his watch, an American one from a firm called Hamilton. (That company had no association with her friends and partners, Stuart and Diana.)

"Penny for your thoughts, Ned?" she asked. "You seem a bit preoccupied. They'll get their game; they're all good stalkers and fine shots. Or, are you worried about Vee?" She used Finn's pet name for Veronica, as did most of their group, Challenger, Marguerite, and John Roxton being the primary exceptions.

"Yeah," admitted Ned. "Veronica usually knows what she's doing, but she can be headstrong and stubborn, and sometimes doesn't think far enough ahead. Don't tell her that I said so; I love her. I don't need to get into an argument with her. But this place is not the jungle where she grew up, and there are animals here that she doesn't know as well as those at home. Some of the snakes here are lots faster and more aggressive than most where we live. They can't kill you any deader than a Tropical Rattlesnake or a Bushmaster, but a mamba or a mad cobra is more likely to run you down and bite you. And I think the average Rock Python here is more aggressive than the average boa or anaconda in Brazil, not that you want any of them getting hold of you! But rhinos and buffalos don't have any real equivalents where we live, and elephants are something else! I think she'll be fine, and this meant a lot to her, to go off like she does on the Plateau and prove herself against that jungle. But I always worry about her to some extent. That comes with loving her. George and Finn and you and Geoff may be more openly affectionate than we are, but I care very deeply for my jungle princess, and I'll just feel better when she joins us again. I don't even care if she makes a kill. We'll have enough meat. But it means a lot to her to prove that she can survive here on her own. Hey, look! They've stopped and I think they're about to shoot."

Almost as Ned spoke, Finn fired her .275 Rigby rifle with a 4X Zeiss telescopic sight. Her quarry was the old ram with the tall horns. It dropped, hit high in the lungs, scrabbled briefly at the ground, and died. As it collapsed, Roxton and George Challenger shot, also both hitting their targets and achieving clean kills.

Challenger referred to Roxton using a .318 Westley Richards and commented dryly that he saw no difference in killing power between it and the .275 (7mm) rifles used by the Challengers.

"I agree," nodded the Earl. "On game this size, it doesn't make much difference what you use, within reason. Hit them right, and they go down. The .318 may have an edge on larger animals, like lion. But I'd rather use my .375 or my .416 on lions. More margin for error, and I don't want a lion in my lap! Poor van der Meer is lucky to be alive. George, you worked wonders with him. Frankly, I didn't think he'd live!"

Finn walked up and kissed George's shoulder. "The Genius works many wonders! I try to be modest about being Mrs. Him, but it's hard." She smiled at George's chuckle.

Lord Roxton shook his head in amusement, and turned to signal the truck to come collect the game. But the three of them walked over and checked each animal before the transport arrived. The last thing they needed was for a dormant wounded antelope to jump up and impale a skinner as the man reached the "dead" buck. Some of the larger antelope like the sable were notorious for that, often charging men. Even the smaller bushbuck could be very dangerous if approached carelessly. But all three animals had been killed cleanly with one shot each.

They ran the measuring tape over the horns of Finn's kill, and as predicted, it would reach well up in Rowland Ward's next edition. She was warmly congratulated, Roxton praising her markswomanship and coolness. George and Geoff took ample photos of her posed with the buck, and Finn admired her kill, running a hand down its side, enchanted with the feel of the fur, caressing the handsome black streak down each of its sides.

The vehicles arrived and Ned and Holly looked over the big ram, murmuring their admiration. Then, the black skinners field-dressed the three animals, cutting the throats of two, to make them suitable for consumption by those of the African staff who were Muslim. Those who worshipped tribal gods, if any, couldn't care less. But the big gazelle, destined for a wall mount, was skinned carefully later in camp, leaving the hide intact. That gave the taxidermist more to work with than if the "boys" had cut the throat

Everyone was so pleased with the way the stalk and the shooting had gone that they forgot the time until Ned checked his watch and pointed out that they needed to pick up Veronica soon.

And it was a good thing that Ned had noticed the time, for his wife had encountered a grave problem!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

She had found the trail of an antelope and was slipping along the path it had followed, an arrow loosely nocked on her bowstring. She was keenly attuned to any minute sounds or stirrings of the breeze. Not that she failed to keep a keen eye on the ground, lest she trip over a vine or step on a waiting snake. She knew that puff adders and river jacks (rhinoceros vipers) often lurked sluggishly in such places, waiting to strike with alacrity if someone came within reach.

She heard faint sounds ahead and moved off to the side, trying to creep ahead to beyond a bend in the trail and ambush the antelope.

But she heard the sudden clatter of hooves, and realized that her prey or a similar animal was coming back up the trail. Her quarry would pass within easy range! Veronica Malone's heart leaped with excitement and she crouched behind a fern-shrouded rock and drew the bow, ready to launch an arrow as soon as her target came into view.

It was actually two antelope, both duikers weighing about 40 pounds each. Veronica's arrow struck the second to pass her, about the time that a thought struck her. If these animals were running that way and it wasn't just a courting ceremony, with the male chasing the female...what had spooked them? Might that creature also be dangerous to her?

She got back under cover, nocking another arrow as the little buck fell and scrabbled around briefly before dying, the arrow having taken it in or near the heart. But she heard nothing more out of the ordinary. The birds and small animals still sang and she saw no leopard or other predator approaching. Maybe this had just been something between the duikers...

After a tense five minutes, she crept out from cover and checked the dead buck, lying some 40 yards down the trail. Sure that it was now venison and not likely to leap up and impale her on its sharp horns, Veronica dug out her arrow and cleaned it with a wet cloth rag from the utility pouch worn across a shoulder. She drew a knife and swiftly, expertly, cleaned it, throwing the viscera well off the trail, where it would be found and consumed by scavengers. She wiped off her knife and her hands with another

She looked around but saw no vines like those at home, where rainwater might be stored. Well, she reasoned, she didn't need more water now. She drank deeply, and then replaced the cap on the aluminum canteen.

Veronica couldn't carry the dead antelope back to the vehicles, and had no idea when the others might follow her. She did know that she was due back at the car soon and that Ned might become impatient and try to follow her. That would be hard or impossible, although if Geoff came and brought his best tracker, she could probably be found...eventually.

But she needed to get the meat back to the others soon, before it began to spoil in the near tropical heat. She decided to cut two saplings with the machete lashed to her leather arrow quiver and used rope from her utility pouch to make a crude- but-effective travois, the assembly used by the American Plains Indians to tow loads behind a person or a horse. Then she tied the antelope to the cross poles and began dragging it down the trail, turning off for the path to the car when she reached it. She recognized the turn, for she had earlier blazed a patch on a tree with the machete, called a panga here in British Africa.

She paused to rest briefly, drank again, and then resumed pulling the travois.

She did this sort of thing seldom because it wasn't as easy for her as for a man, and it might develop her biceps too much for her to be attractive. She took pride in her appearance and knew that Ned admired her looks. Being pretty also gave her an edge in dealing with other men, on and off of the Plateau. These included such influential savages as Chief Jacoba of the Zanga and his cousin, the powerful shaman, Xma'Klee. She needed to keep them happy, especially the somewhat mercurial, grumpy Jacoba.

Veronica grinned at the thought of that imperious monarch, glad that she was a close friend of his daughter, Assai. She breathed deeply, and bent to the task of towing the meat down the path, which was overgrown in places, and uneven in others.

Ned Malone looked at his watch and fidgeted. "Geoff, how much longer do we have to wait?" he demanded. "Something may be wrong. If Veronica hadn't been so determined to go off on that personal trek of discovery, I'd have put my foot down and talked her out of it. What if she's hurt?"

"Then, she already knows that she's hurt," said Finn with a subtle smile. "She'd know that long before we would!"

George Challenger turned his head so that Malone wouldn't see his smile. He heard Ned's somewhat indignant reply, "Finny, dang it, I know that! You know what I mean, and it isn't funny. She may need me...us."

Roxton wiped his neck with a wet napkin from the chop box, the crew having just had tea and biscuits. "Ned has a point," he conceded. "Perhaps he and I had better see if we can find Veronica. It isn't like her to be late. She probably got lost. It may be too hard for her to use a compass well in there."

"I'll have to go, too," said Geoff. "She is my client. I was afraid that something like this would happen. And I've just thought of something else. Some of those refugee thugs from the rebel witch doctor's army may be hiding out in these woods. The Army and police haven't finished accounting for them all yet. And other black thugs sometimes seek cover in places like this. I just didn't especially think of them as being on Angus's land. Probably, they aren't, but who can be certain?"

Holly and Finn looked at one another in alarm. As women, they could especially appreciate what fate might await Veronica if she was captured by such renegades.

"A woman needs to come," said Finn. "I'll go. Vee's my oldest female friend."

"No!" said all of the men at once. "And Holly isn't coming, either," said Blacklaws firmly.

Holly knew that tone of voice and decided not to argue. "Finn and I need to wait here, anyway," she conceded. "George, will you wait with us? I don't want to have only girls here with our Africans."

In fact, she wasn't too afraid of their safari crew, although it might be a bit scary for Finn and Susan, who didn't know the "boys" as well as she did. But if George stayed, Finn would be more likely to stay without arguing. And Holly wanted their company, and to mind her mate, when Geoff used that tone to her. She knew that he was frightened for her, and offered no argument. It took a lot to worry Geoffrey Vincent Blacklaws!

"I'm staying with Mrs. Challenger," said Susan, to no one's surprise. But she was surprised, herself, to see the look of gratitude and warmth on Mrs. C.'s face as she looked warmly at Susan.

Challenger smiled wanly. "Well, if the girls will promise to look after me, I think I'll stay, then." He pulled Finn's hair lightly, and she grinned and beamed at him.

The other men and Semliki, Geoff's best tracker and sometime gunbearer, got their equipment and prepared to enter the forest. Challenger packed them a minimum of first aid supplies and he and the women waved goodbye as the rescue expedition departed, following the path that Mrs. Malone had taken over three hours before.

Susan watched them leave and asked anxiously, "She'll be all right, won't she?" Then, realizing how dumb this sounded, added, "Sorry. I'm just worried."

"As are we all," intoned the male Challenger. "Veronica is like a daughter to me and a sister to Finn. All we can do is hope, and be here for her when she returns. I say, Holly, is there any tea left?"

The men passed quietly into the jungle, walking softly, lest they alert any enemies or cause any game to stampede. Sometimes, buffalo lived in here, and elephant roamed, too. They watched carefully for snakes, and, like his mate before him, Ned remembered to look on tree limbs for lurking leopards. Normally, if one saw humans, it would fade away, never being detected. But an occasional one would attack and eat people. Geoff and Stuart both believed that any leopard that saw a chance might run off with a child. To them, people were just a different species of monkey or ape, and those items were high on their preferred menu. And any leopard surprised at close quarters would probably make mincemeat of a person. Veronica had been very lucky to so startle the one that she had encountered that it had flipped and run. The odds for an attack in those circumstances were very high!

Ned eased open the bolt of his .375 H&H Magnum rifle and checked to see that the top cartridge in the magazine had a full metal jacketed bullet, what the British called a "full patch" bullet. If they had to shoot something in here, it might be big enough to need the penetration of such bullets.

Roxton had opted for the .318 Westley Richards rifle that he had used on the gazelle. He had more ammunition for it than for his .416, and it would be better in case they had to shoot men. The magazine held five cartridges, and the recoil level was much less than with the .416 Rigby or the big double rifles, normally reserved for the biggest game. Geoff had his Holland & Holland .465 double, the only rifle that he'd brought on this hunt. If he had to shoot, he expected only to have to stop a charge from something big and nasty. He regretted now not having brought something smaller, in case men turned out to be the threat. Still, if he hit a man with this elephant gun, the effect on him might send his companions packing.

Geoff half wished that he had allowed his wife to come, for Holly was a deadly accurate shot, and her .275 would be a comfort. But he was too afraid that something might happen to her, and she was his second heart, the light of his life. He would not risk her unless it was mandatory, as when they had all taken refuge in the DC's compound during the reign of terror sparked by the witch doctor's revolt earlier in this very safari.

And the more of them along, the more noise they would make, and it would be harder to keep track of one another. Knowing where your friends were would be vital in this thick forest, interspersed by wider tree growth. But mostly, it was thick here, with trees, vines, and ferns making the forest a shaded cathedral of Nature.

Ned shifted his holster slightly further back on his gun belt where it balanced better and followed Roxton and Blacklaws, fascinated by the foliage and the sounds of the exotic fauna. But he could not damp the fear within him, the dread that something might have happened to Veronica

Deeper in the jungle, Veronica paused to rest and listened to the sounds of the fauna. So far, so good: some small scuttling in the undergrowth, the calls of monkeys and birds. Nothing that seemed out of place… She drank again, capped the canteen, and shouldered the travois harness. Ugh, she thought: heave and pull! But the trailing sticks moved well along most of the ground, for she had found a game path that was relatively clear of tangles and big rocks. In fact, it provided rather easy going.

She sniffed, inhaling the aroma of the forest, including the bouquet of exotic flowers. Veronica thought of how proud Ned would be of her for getting the duiker and wondered how Finn would tease her for her triumph. The men would grudgingly (but proudly) acknowledge her prowess and Holly would be openly gleeful, probably using a Finnism that she had learned: Girl Power!

Veronica laughed openly at that thought and pulled harder on the travois. She knew that she needed to reach the others soon, lest they come looking for her, and she didn't want to delay Marguerite's late afternoon leopard hunt.

Everything was going fine until an abrupt stillness fell over the jungle near her and she heard an angry trumpet and the sound of a tree branch being violently wrenched from the trunk! Her pores became goose pimples and a Swahili name shot into her mind. Tembo!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Back at the vehicles, Finn and Holly were giggling as they played tic-tac-toe and Challenger was scribbling in a notebook, proving to himself that a four-bladed aircraft propeller would give substantially greater climbing power from the same engine, as compared to a two or three-bladed conventional propeller. In fact, years later, he would sell his improved propeller design to Supermarine, for use on the MK IX Spitfire fighter. But that would take until 1942, with a world engulfed in the most horrible conflict in history.

Suddenly, they all stopped what they were doing and pricked up their ears as a muffled scream of anger and raw male dominance echoed through the jungle that began next to them.

Holly addressed the Challengers. "You two had better load your .375's, and use full patch bullets. I didn't bring a heavy rifle, and I think we may find use for one, if that elephant comes this way."

A skinner came running from the truck, parked some 50 feet away. He looked at Holly and said urgently, _"Tembo, mem'Sahib! Douma m'Kubwa!"_

"_N'Dio _(yes)," replied Holly. "Elephant, and a big bull," she explained to the couple beside her.

"Do tell," muttered Finn, accepting her beautiful Holland & Holland .375 Magnum rifle from her husband. "What was your first clue?" She snicked open the Mauser system bolt and reached for the bright brass Kynoch brand cartridges that George was passing to her.

Veronica soon realized that the elephant was in a truly violent mood and seemed to be moving toward her. She moistened a finger in her mouth and held it up to see which side cooled first. That would be the way the wind moved, although there was little breeze at the moment.

She realized that her scent might be moving toward the elephant. Geoff and John Roxton had told her that elephants had rather poor eyesight, but very keen hearing and smell. Veronica hastened to get her burden out of the jungle before the big bull scented her and became hostile. She was afraid that where one elephant trumpeted, others would ghost along nearby. She knew that they could move silently, far more quietly than most humans managed.

Ned heard the elephant, too, as did his companions. He saw Geoff test the wind with fine dust from a tobacco pouch that he carried when hunting. Like Veronica's moist finger, the drift of the dust showed the path of the wind. He jerked his chin in the way that they needed to go and the men quickened their pace.

Roxton fell back slightly and whispered to Ned, "That bull is probably in line with the drift of our scent. Have your rifle ready. Can you remember where I told you to place the frontal brain shot if we're charged?"

"Yes, yes, damn it," replied Ned. "I just hope we find Veronica before that elephant does. It doesn't sound happy!"

N'bamga wa Karanja moved softly in the jungle near Veronica. He saw the white girl on the path, towing the travois. It took him a moment to realize that the long sticks were a means for transporting the carcass of the antelope. But the meat appealed to him, and if he could capture the girl, she would be good sport. Perhaps her man would pay much money, _mingi shillingi_, to get her back...if in slightly used condition! Or, she would make a good slave or a sacrifice to his heathen god, for he worshipped the same evil spirit as the deceased witch doctor whom he had served. He had rejected the Kikuyu god of his fathers.

Who could she be, dressed that way, doing what she was? She was very pretty as the white man reckoned beauty. And she appealed to N'bamga, although she didn't look strong enough to carry wood or water well. If he was buying a bride, he would want a more stalwart woman. But to humiliate and enjoy, she was ideal!

He slipped through the undergrowth as quietly as he could. A white female probably wouldn't hear him even if he made a little noise. N'bamga didn't respect women much, anyway. In Swahili, the word that described them, _manamouki_, meant "she-thing" and also referred to female animals.

Now, he recalled hearing about white women dressed that way, in a ceremony at the DC's boma where one called Marguerite who was also known as Morrighan had dressed in less than some native women wore, and had danced to cause a curse that had toppled the witch doctor whom he, N'bamga, had followed. He remembered that two of those women had had golden hair, like this one. She must be one of the witches! That thought sobered him, but she was still female and desirable. If he could bind her and bring her back to his camp, the other refugees from the police would rejoice and praise him for his prisoner and for the meat that she dragged on that strange affair behind her. She carried a bow, but all her arrows were in the quiver on her back. He could be on her before she could react and load her bow, if she even knew how to use it. But the dead buck suggested that she could indeed use that bow, and he saw a knife on her belt. He would have to take her quickly and tie her before she could run or draw the knife. He did not see the gun holstered on Veronica's other side, or the second knife on her right boot.

N'bamga grinned and moved toward the blonde girl, forgetful of the elephant. It was probably not coming this way, anyway...

Veronica's ears pricked up and she concentrated on the faint noise that N'bamga made. Something about it, including that it was growing closer, told her that this was human in origin, and unfriendly.

She pulled harder, trying to reach a large boulder ahead on her right that would give her cover in case someone attacked.

N'bamga sensed what she had in mind and screamed, hoping to chill her blood. Immediately, Veronica dropped the travois and lunged behind a tree, reaching for her revolver. The pursuing renegade native thought that the girl was fleeing and ran faster, calling on her to stop, lest he cast his spear at her.

That sounds like just the reason I need to claim justifiable homicide, thought Veronica and stepped out from behind the tree, the Smith & Wesson .38 held in both hands, her finger already pulling the trigger. She put two quick bullets into the solar plexus of her assailant before he fully registered what was happening. Those cartridges were handloaded by Roxton with lead hollowpoint bullets at a nominal 925 feet per second from the five-inch barrel of her gun, and they expanded to create more shock as they drove deep into the savage's body.

He tripped, falling over his spear. As he tried to fumble his way to his feet, the dying man barely felt the sledgehammer blow of a third shot hitting him in the nose at a range of barely six feet. The bullet flew out the back of his skull, taking bits of battered brain tissue with it. He flopped belly down, twitched once, and was as dead as last week's news.

One glance at him and Veronica knew that she need shoot no more. And she understood now just what Finn and Marguerite had been trying to tell her about the Xingu headhunter that Finn had shot on the Plateau some years before. She felt bile rise in her throat, but forced herself to stay under cover and reload, as Roxton and Finn had trained her. She listened carefully, but heard nothing suspicious.

She closed the cylinder of the reloaded revolver and darted out to take a quick drink and resume pulling the travois, looking from side to side as she almost ran. She kept the gun in her right hand.

Then, the chilling sound of the elephant drowned the other jungle noises, and she knew that it had heard the shots and was enraged and looking for her!

The men looking for her had also heard the three shots. "Was that a signal?" Ned mused.

"I doubt it," responded Lord Roxton. "The shots weren't evenly spaced. The last was several seconds after the first two. I'm afraid that Veronica has had to shoot something or someone."

"Could be a snake," hoped Geoff Blacklaws. "Whatever it is, we need to proceed with caution. I say, Ned, what the devil are you doing?"

"I'm going to fire a shot to let her know we're here and looking for her," said the former reporter.

"Dammit, no!" barked Roxton. "If any of those bandits that Geoff mentioned are around, that will reveal our presence. Let's just get on her trail and watch our step. We also don't want to upset that elephant more."

Geoff nodded and told Semliki to track, but they really only had to follow the trail, the jungle being too thick for travel otherwise.

They had gone only a few hundred cautious yards when they heard something approaching. They ducked off of the trail, but saw only Veronica coming, still dragging the travois with the dead antelope on it.

Ned Malone's heart sang with joy, for she appeared unharmed and beautiful, although sweaty and a little dirty. Then, he saw the elephant behind her and gaining swiftly. It had come on silent feet, but now made a growling noise, followed by an angry trumpet as he charged the fleeing girl!

Veronica screamed and dropped the travois.

As she approached the hidden men, Veronica saw her husband step out from behind a tree and run toward her. She howled his name with delight and screamed, "Ned, shoot! That elephant means business!"

She dropped to give him a clear shot at the elephant, and Ned placed his sights just above an imaginary line running between the enraged bull's eyes and centered on his forehead. A shot that went awry would be soaked up by the spongy effect of the skull bone and a bullet wouldn't penetrate to the brain. The small opening where he aimed was about the size of a loaf of bread and the animal's head was moving as it ran.

Ned squeezed the trigger and the .375 bucked against his shoulder, the recoil approximating that of a 12 gauge shotgun.  
The elephant stumbled and collapsed, a thin trail of blood coming from the bullet hole in his forehead.

Geoff ran around to the side and administered a shot from his .465 into the ear opening. The animal was dead when this additional missile arrived, but Geoff wanted to take no chances with charging wildlife. He wanted to be certain that such beasts were, as Finn drolly phrased it, DRT. Dead Right There. It didn't occur to the white hunter that the term was from a hundred years in the future; he liked the sound of it, and Finn was often funny in such a macabre way.

Ned lifted Veronica, who had holstered her .38, and she hugged him fiercely. "My hero!', she exclaimed, and Ned felt taller than the trees that surrounded them.

He lifted Veronica's head and kissed her lips gently. "My heroine," he replied. And she was, every time he thought of her! His heroine and his love!

Back at the vehicles, the others heard the shots and after quick, intense discussion, decided to go after their friends. And by following the path until they heard their voices, found them.

After ascertaining from a distance that all was well, the newcomers advanced on the others, calling out to announce their presence.

"We left all of the African guys to watch the truck and the meat, except for Jonas here," said Finn, indicating a gunbearer and talented tracker. "So, if Vee found some thugs here, hadn't we better get out before more come to see what became of him? He probably wasn't living in here alone."

"Excellent idea, Finn," acknowledged Roxton. "But George may want to take a quick look behind this elephant's ears. I think we discovered why he was so irritable."

"Aha!" said the scientist. "Let me guess: he was in musth?"

"Must what?" asked a baffled Veronica. She brushed dust and leaves off of herself and went to recover her travois with the duiker on it.

"Musth is a condition in which bull elephants are in an agitated state, wanting desperately to breed," explained Challenger. "They get quite irritated unless they can breed a cow elephant, and will charge almost anything or anyone while in that state. Unlike humans, they don't have sexual relations except when in heat."

"Sort of like Pon Farr," mused Finn, who then had to explain about having seen DVD's of old, _Star Trek _shows. She fibbed about the technical aspects of the DVD's, making them seem more like the movie projectors of this day, lest she reveal too much of the Lost World and imperil the home of the Malones. Her explanation of Vulcan mating practices amused her friends, Holly seeming particularly enchanted and quite curious. She grinned as Finn told how some space woman Vulcan named T'Pol being in heat had appealed to the male viewers of the program. "This chick had pointed ears, but she had a smoking bod, and the guys all had something to say about how they'd like to bang her," concluded Finn.

"I think I followed most of that," said Ned. "But she must have really been something, if these fellows were more interested in her than in you."

Finn's face lit up like stored sunlight had been released within her and she pecked Ned on the cheek. "'Way cool, Ned! That was really sweet." She hugged him before going to stand by Challenger, rubbing a hand down his arm as if to atone for the affection shown to another man.

Roxton smeared the sticky fluid behind the elephant's ears with a stick and they looked with sympathy and fascination at the substance that proved that the poor beast had indeed been in musth and was suffering from both demanding hormones and this oozing substance irritating him. "Poor old chap," said the Earl. "I thought I had it bad when I want Marguerite and she leads me on before giving in. But this..."

Veronica walked over and checked behind John's ears. "He's clean, girls. We're safe. For today," she laughed. "I'm not even going to check Ned; he's always in heat." She blew Malone a kiss, touched that he flushed as he smiled and looked a little masculinely proud.

"We do need to vanish," pointed out Blacklaws. "If more of those rotters like the one who tried to capture Veronica are about, they may be closing in on us right now. We need to get back to Angus's place, tell the troops, and I must get Marguerite off to the leopard blind."

So, they gathered up the travois, Roxton pulling it for Veronica, and moved rapidly out of the forest, keeping a keen watch out on all sides.

"What about the ivory? That must go over 80 pounds a side?" asked Holly. "Don't you want it, Ned?"

"We'll get it later, after Thorne's men have swept the jungle," explained her husband. "The carcass needs to rot a little before the tusks will slip out easily. The alternative is to just tell the Africans on Angus's farm about the meat and they'll butcher the animal. With luck, they'll be careful enough not to butcher one another in the process! They're always very keen to get meat. And they can leave the head until the tusks are loose. We'll want the ears for leather or to use the feet and lower leg hide to make tall ashtrays for your den."

"Thanks but I'll pass on those ashtrays," said Ned Malone. "That doesn't seem to me to show the proper respect for a great game animal."

His spouse agreed, and Blacklaws said that he was glad to hear it, as he felt the same way. Then, they were at the cars and got the duiker loaded and made ready to leave.

"Hey," said Mrs. Malone. "Haven't we forgotten something? Like to congratulate me for killing this buck, stalking through the jungle in my scanty little costume, using my bow? Didn't I hear some men here doubt that I could do this?"

"What? Stalk through the jungle and look sexy?" teased Roxton. "I knew that you were talented at that from the day that we met. Ask Ned: he paid even more attention to that than George and I did." He winked mischievously at her and Veronica laughed in spite of her pique.

"Honey, I never doubted you," proclaimed Ned. And she sat extra close to him in the car, laying her head on his shoulder.

The problem came from the Africans in the truck. They looked at Veronica and there were murmurs of "_juju_." Everyone knew that beautiful white women didn't dress like this and kill animals with a bow. It took some time for Blacklaws to get them settled down and get underway.

They went as rapidly as was safe, considering the ground, back to the main house. Here they briefed the KAR officers on the renegades in the jungle and saw their antelope kills skinned. The latter had been gotten back soon enough to be butchered with no significant decline in freshness.

Finn's especially large Thomson's gazelle ram was admired and given special attention by the skinners. Angus and the Hamiltons and some of the African staff oohed and awwed over it, and Finn was quite proud of herself as Susan took additional photos of her with it, holding her rifle.

The author was dressed as usual in khaki trousers like a more feminine version of what the men wore: a short-sleeved pale blue cotton shirt and a khaki vest with pockets for odds and ends with cartridge loops on the front, and her usual gunbelt with the Smith & Wesson .38, a pouch for spare ammo, and her hunting knife. Her compass went into one of the pockets on the vest, and she seldom left camp without one.

Susan suggested that she remove the vest to show her trim figure better, and she grinned shyly and did so, as the men cheered to tease her. The male Challenger looked embarrassed, but proud of her.

"Stop at taking off the vest," said Marguerite dryly. "You want these pictures to appear in books that may be bought by family men. But wear your binocular in some. That will give you the adventurous explorer look."

Finn and Susan thought that was a good idea, so they took some shots of Finn with the binocular on her neck in and out of its case, and some of her with it raised, peering inquisitively into the distance, as if seeking wild natives or wilder beasts.

In all, the men not usually with the safari were much impressed with the degree of effort that Susan put into photographing her boss, and the Roxtons took additional pictures of Finn with Susan and with George. Then it was Veronica's turn, and she looked very glamorous in her Amazonian jungle princess outfit. She had not changed back into her usual safari attire, as they had needed to get clear of the wooded area and get the meat back to the main house before it risked spoilage. Angus Hardy, Sir John Musgrave, and the KAR officers were clearly visually impressed, Musgrave flushing a bit as his wife gave him a wry look. But Amanda was more amused at his embarrasment than she was jealous of Veronica.

"Leopards like their meat a bit 'high'," noted Geoff, "but we wondrously civilized creatures don't favor awfully rank cuts of venison crawling with maggots. Must be that we're sissies; there's more protein that way, eh? Good thing that we're getting these antelope in the meat locker in time."

"Stop trying to be grotesquely amusing and take Marguerite to shoot a gigantic leopard," suggested Diana. "If you go on that way, no telling what tales they'll tell of us Kenya folk when they get back to Britain. I say, when Finn and Vee get done posing to the enchantment of you chaps, including my obviously fascinated husband, would anyone like tea? We baked cookies while you lot were off shooting antelope and savages."

Ned was delighted to find that these were oatmeal-raisin cookies, although he begged for coffee with his. Veronica and Marguerite seconded the coffee suggestion and Holly went into the kitchen and accommodated their request. "The difficult, we do immediately," she quipped. "The impossible takes a bit longer. Making coffee isn't even difficult. The difficult is getting these chaps to keep their eyes in their sockets when Vee dresses that way. Ta." And she and a wryly smirking Marguerite Roxton were off to brew Ned's request.

Amanda Musgrave took all of this in with barely suppressed laughter. She was more somber when they trooped into the dining room and she heard her husband conferring with Thorne and Featherstonehaugh about the number of renegades likely to be lurking on Angus Hardy's property. Actually, some of that large tract of jungle extended over his boundaries, but the Hamiltons owned the next farm, so there was no problem in getting permission to send in troops and police to rout out the vermin.

Musgrave explained that they had been on the radio to the Governor and that 200 soldiers and Kenya Police would arrive in a day or so, driving up from bases nearer the capitol city of Nairobi. "We need to put an end to this emergency, once and for all," declared the DC.

"I'll drink to that," said Malone. "Just as soon as the coffee's ready."

"Well, Yank, if coffee's what you drink, I may even believe your fishing stories," razzed Featherstonehaugh, to general amusement.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The remainder of the visit passed rapidly. Marguerite got her leopard, an outsized one of 175 pounds that went nicely into the next edition of Rowland Ward's. And the troops routed and killed 19 native rebels on the estate, capturing another four. They said that there might be a few others not living in their camp, and Musgrave cautioned the Hamiltons and Angus Hardy to be careful if they again hunted that area of their land.

But one of the rebels, offered a chance to avoid the gallows, agreed to locate the others, whom he named. They soon ceased to be a problem, and the informant was strangled in prison by others of his kind. If anyone mourned, they did not make their grief public.

The safari clients got their equipment boxed up and on board their ocean liner, less a few items kept in their staterooms, like binoculars, cameras, and the pistols that they kept for protection on board ship and while travelling to their estates in Britain. The guns weren't needed, but as Marguerite remarked, it is better to have a gun and not need it than to need it and not have it. (In those more innocent days, travellers often went armed, and no official really wanted to ask the Earl and Countess of Avebury and their friends if they were carrying guns, anyway!)

After a scenic voyage marred only by two stormy nights, the liner docked at Southampton, and the adventurers disembarked. They held a press conference, promising new books and movies about their latest experiences, and then took train to London.

There, the ladies reveled in shopping, as is the wont of their species, and the men even liked them in some of their new outfits and jewelry. The girls also sent gift packages to their female friends in Kenya, including stocks of their "radical" (for the times) lingerie and copies of Veronica's jungle outfit, made by the London shop that furnished the clothes that Marguerite and Finn designed. (Holly Blacklaws later wrote to Finn that she had adopted the Veronica attire as night and casual wear when she and Geoff were alone, and told Finn that she was right about it being an aphrodisiac: she was with child within a few months, and credited the outfit with bolstering Geoff's already very healthy libido.)

When the Roxtons rented lorries to take them and their gear to Avebury, the Malones joined them there for a week, then stopped off on the way back to their ship to visit with the Challengers in Kent for an additional week. Then, they were off to Brazil, amid a tearful farewell from their friends and virtual family members.

When the Malones were gone and the Challengers were settling down to normal life, including spending time with their children, George sat with Finn one night on their balcony, looking at the myriad stars that were visible here in the English countryside. Finn shivered at first, clad in almost nothing until she got her dark green robe and brought her husband his green one trimmed with wide maroon and gold stripes. She handed him his slippers, donning her own, trimmed in leopard fur.

"I love this, Genius," she murmured, her head resting on his wide shoulder. "Seeing those stars, wearing these robes, reminds me of the safari. I feel really humble, sitting here looking at all of those galaxies and constellations. But I have to say that I love life most here at our place, being with you at quiet times like this. I am so totally the luckiest woman to have lived. " She raised her head and nuzzled his ear.

Challenger took her hand in his and kissed her. "I share your sentiments, although I imagine that some queens and empresses and the like may have felt themselves as fortunate as you. And I daresay that Marguerite does."

Finn smiled slightly and said, "They have no idea how complete and valued I feel. Marguerite, yes, but even she probably doesn't understand the full perfection of life with you. Cuddle with me for a few minutes, then let's go in to bed and get rid of these robes and let me show you how much fun I can be. We can even sleep in tomorrow. No personal boy to knock on our tent and say, _'Jambo, Bwana, mem'Sahib, mimi lette chai.' _I miss that, but I like sleeping until later even more. What about you?" She looked at him in the gauzy darkness and sensed the turning of his head as much as saw it.

" Let me reflect on that for a moment," he asked. "Let's see: I love safari life, but it means you getting up and accepting that tea while I try to pretend that it isn't time yet. Here, I can have Rosa bring tea whenever we decide to rise, or go down to breakfast. Hmpf. I shouldn't have thought of that. Now, I'm hungry for scrambled eggs and ham. No matter; I'll wait until in the morning. Where was I? Ah...here, you stay in bed with me, warming my body and my soul until my internal clock tells me that it is indeed time to rise, and we go down together to face a new day in this restful, inspirational place that is Heaven on Earth. I rather think I prefer life here. But I must say, I do look forward to going on shikar in India next year. Perhaps the children will be old enough to risk taking them, too. Susan and some local nanny can help enormously in keeping them safe, and they will love the exotic land and seeing us with tigers and other game just taken. Maharajahs, temples, tombs like the Taj Mahal...Shah Jehan must have loved his wife almost as much as I love you, to have commissioned that monument to her."

"Genius? What's the short answer? Here or on safari? You seem to be leaning toward here."

Challenger chuckled and tugged Finn's hair. "I see that even blondes can sometimes achieve the right answer without too much effort. To be sure, you are an exceptional blonde. Yes, here is best, as much as I love adventures abroad. Look there, Finn." He pointed to the inky sky, illuminated by a vast array of stars.. "There is Andromeda; the once-chained maiden, rescued by Perseus. Immortalized in the stars! Do you think that we may someday be so enshrined in the heavens? I did rescue you from an awful fate." He chuckled and toyed with her ears, playing with the slim gold loop earrings that adorned the lobes.

Finn thought. "I hope not," she concluded. "Do you really want us to be on display up there, with everybody down here gawking at us? It's bad enough when grouchy old ladies tell me at my lectures that I ought to be ashamed of myself for wearing what I did on the Plateau and marrying a man old enough to be my father. You're going to be a legend anyway, and I'll be recorded by history to have been Mrs. You. And one of the first successful female adventure writers and pioneer wildlife cinema photographers. How much more do we need?"

Challenger cleared his throat. "Not much, when you think of it like that. Come on, Darling. Let us close the windows and adjourn to bed. I'll turn up the heat a bit. Tomorrow night, I'll build a blaze downstairs and we can sit and talk by the fireplace. But for the rest of the night, you are all the warmth that I'll need. And after you have finished showing me how much fun you can be, I'll probably have forgotten about those scrambled eggs. And be ready to sleep, perchance to dream. Very likely about you. That way, when I wake and you are in my arms, my dreams will have come true."

Finn purred." See how lucky I am? How many guys really talk like that to their wives? I mean, when they don't have to, to get out of trouble or to get what they want. Come on in. I want to get started on waking up next to you. It gives me something to look forward to." She slipped off her robe, tossing it on a chair near their bed. She slipped off her jade green bikini panties and tossed them atop the robe.

She grinned at him as he secured the window latch. "Last one in bed is a Billy goat!" And she sprinted for the covers.

"Ahem," he reminded her. "If I'm to be a Billy goat, I'll remind you that they resemble satyrs, young lady. Do you think you can handle that?"

Finn sat cross-legged by her pillow. "Only one way to find out," she teased. "Come show us."

A strenuous hour later, she snuggled next to him and sleepily inquired, "Lover? Did you ever live in ancient Greece and play Pan pipes?" She kissed him goodnight and decided that she would give their cook the morning off. Her scientist would get his eggs and ham, but prepared by his wife. And she would personally cut the roses that she would place in the silver vase on his desk. She rather enjoyed giving back to him, who had given so much to her. Finn drifted off to sleep, already looking forward to the fire in the den that evening.

The End


End file.
